


Unseen Beauty

by Kilometers (Thomsenator)



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Childhood, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Eventual Canon Divergence, Eventual Friendships, Eventual Relationships, Family, Gen, Independence, Loneliness, Loss, Multi, Novelization, On Hiatus, Responsibility, Tragedy, Trauma, eventual action
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-11-22 00:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11368386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thomsenator/pseuds/Kilometers
Summary: Yang Xiao Long's sunny persona and aggressive fighting style lead most people to believe she's mostly hot air and pun(che)s. But those rare souls she lets in close get a glimpse of the truth, that she is so much more: Someone who rises time and time again from the ashes of pain and loss only to give all of herself for her loved ones; someone whose heart burns brighter than the sun.This story will explore Yang's character in greater detail, embellishing on the many hints and small moments in canon that simply do not get addressed with the time and attention this poor girl deserves.***ON HIATUS***





	1. All Our Days

(the day the letter came)

* * *

He doesn't say anything.

His mouth is shut tightly in a thin line of cracked lips surrounded by dirty blond stubble and a vaguely disheveled soul patch, and remains still. And tense.

He doesn't look at the young girl standing motionless at the base of the stairs, six feet away, to the right.

His bleary, bloodshot eyes are fixed somewhere between the window and the ceiling, off to the left. He seldom blinks, and when he does, it is slow and his cheeks and brow scrunch around his eyes in order to force the dry, unwilling lids shut. Then they open again, hesitant and unfocused before finding the image only he can see above the window, the image that is neither here nor now.

Save for the eyes and the alarmingly slow rise and fall of his chest, Taiyang Xiao Long could pass for a statue - a miserable statue, so fractured beneath the surface that the slightest movement could shatter it.

Or a corpse, whose life had only just dissipated from its eyes.

The girl tries again.

"Daddy?" her tiny voice croaks. She swallows hard, sniffling in the process. She wipes mucus from her upper lip with the back of her right hand, small fingers trembling.

Silence.

Ten seconds pass. The light of the setting sun streams through the windows, casting long shadows of still bodies against the cozy wood cottage paneling. Ambient particles of dust float lazily around, winking in and out of sight.

She sniffles once more as her nose continues to run, and he blinks again, still slowly. Painfully.

"Dad?" she forces out with an ounce of added courage. Her voice does not waver this time, and she is momentarily surprised by its clarity.

She's not entirely certain, but his chest appears to stop moving for a brief moment before he blinks again, breaking the long pause before what should have been the next one.

But his eyes don't open again.

They remain closed, his facial muscles slowly contorting around his nearly soulless sockets. Now she's sure he's stopped breathing, and a spark of panic ignites in the child's belly, prompting her throat to tighten and her own breathing to stop for a split second, before-

He lets out a ragged sigh, voice cracking slightly as his eyes open more quickly than before, seeming to wander for a second before finding hers. He has to turn his head down and to the right slightly in order to meet her pleading gaze, and her panic gives way to an eerie stillness.

Bright blue eyes (although she's known them to be far more brilliant), tainted by an unhealthy glow of red veins snaking through white, stare through the dark, baggy sockets into her own eyes, which she knows to be purple - a shade he once somberly described as "lilac: the most beautiful blend of blue and red".

He holds her bleary gaze for two long seconds as his own mouth quivers, then hesitantly cracks open. He appears to form a thought, and then she's sure he's about to verbalize it. She's sure he's going to answer her desperate cries, and smile and embrace her and speak soft words of reassurance and stroke her scalp, filtering his hands through her long mess of blonde hair like he and Mom did every time she woke up crying from the nightmares - those terrible, lonely nightmares.

"…Y… Yang…" he slowly wheezes out, too high pitched to be the Daddy she knows.

Yang hesitantly reaches out to him with her right hand, approaching the side of the low green couch, trying to initiate contact.

As he follows her eyes (but not her outstretched hand), there is a moment of clarity - of recognition, and sympathy, and connection - and then his eyes widen, lose focus, and he's looking back up at the ceiling, trapped in a staring contest with another phantom.

The girl's arm begins to shake, and her stomach tightens, and intense heat burns in her face, stinging her eyes. Her vision becomes too cloudy and she squeezes her eyes shut, jerking her face towards the floor. Her breathing becomes ragged and uneven and her arms lock themselves to her sides, fists clenched and shaking.

The sobbing begins again. Fresh tears wash over her sore face, mucus welling up in her sinuses and slowly making its own escape attempt through her dry, reddened nostrils. Her throat is still sore from before, and it quickly becomes hard to breathe. Her voice gives out and she hiccups for air.

Somewhere in this mess the girl slowly stumbles back towards the staircase, and she begins an unusually long hike up, tripping up every third or fourth step but always catching herself with her right hand before pushing upward and onward with all four limbs.

The soreness and the wetness and the tightness remain, but she regains some semblance of control as she rights herself at the top of the stairs. Swollen lilac eyes still glued to the floor in front of her and framed by her unkempt yellow locks, she drags her feet down the hall to her shared bedroom.

With the sobbing subsided, what little energy she has left becomes focused internally, as her mind swirls with thoughts responding once more to the repetitive surges of emotion.

She was so sure that this time he would snap out of it, and that she would be in his arms again. But instead, she's only more sure than ever that Daddy is gone. Maybe not like…

Not like Mom.

(She sniffles as she approaches the open doorway, and she raises her head to look inwards. Her neck is so sore.)

But he's far away. Somewhere Yang can't reach. Somewhere that he can't come back from. Not even when his own daughter is begging for him to help her understand, to cry in comfort, to cope. Not even when his youngest is-

Sobbing.

Whimpering.

A tired and desperate mix of the two snaps the girl's unfocused eyes from the door she's been standing next to for… how long? towards the bed with the deep red pillowcases and comforter, where the small body of a pale-skinned toddler, swathed in red, pink and black patterned flannel pajamas, shakes slightly. As the elder sister wipes her eyes clear of excess moisture she thinks she can make out darker patches on the pillowcase, which she immediately knows to be the result of tears not unlike her own.

A sudden clarity forces aside all other thoughts as she approaches her shaking baby sister. The not-quite-a-toddler-anymore seems to have tossed and turned enough to have removed herself from what is now a tangled mess of blankets, and the older-but-still-very-much-a-child sister is sure her sibling is now shivering from a combination of confused misery and the evening chill that is blowing in through the open window. She doesn't have much reach, but with some effort she bends over the younger girl's tiny frame and pulls the blankets back over her and up to her chin. As the older girl reaches back she brushes her right hand gently across her mostly-sleeping sister's face, wiping away what must have been a recent stream of tears.

A subtle breeze of chilled air prompts Yang to break away from this tender moment to approach the window. She has to grab a simple wooden chair from the desk in the corner, but once upon it she thinks she has enough height to reach the inner window pane, which she stretches up to in order to pull it down. Her miniature grasp on the wood of the frame isn't giving her much leverage, though, even when she stands on her tippy toes for that extra inch.

She shifts her weight forward, pushing down with her fingertips, and-

She's tumbling down, and her knees both hit something, there's a loud slamming of wood on wood, and her forehead feels a stab of pain, and then she's tangled in a mess of her own yellow hair and discarded clothes on the carpeted ground next to a toppled chair and she is still, and quiet.

As she begins to register her fall, the associated bruises quickly developing in her knees and forehead, though confused at first, are suddenly sending all kinds of messages of pain to her brain. She gasps, her throat raw, but cannot find the strength – no, the desire – to cry out.

Instead she just sits there in stunned silence, wondering if he would even come to her if she did. And her head throbs with pain and her knees feel swollen but she comes to the conclusion once more, with greater finality:

Daddy's gone.

She sniffles once more and gingerly pushes herself up and around with her right arm, orienting herself amidst the miniature disaster zone below the now closed window. She considers just lying there and giving into her misery and exhaustion, when-

Sobbing. Weeping. Crying. Choking.

Yang forces herself back to her feet, and props herself up against the bed, legs uneasy. Her sister shudders with each whimpering cough, and the blonde is suddenly clear-headed. There is only one course of action.

She clambers upon the far side of the bed, and quickly (but carefully) crawls over to the child in the red and pink and black pajamas, who groggily turns onto her back, coughing, trying to catch her breath after choking on her own sadness. Her eyes remain closed, and the elder sister is sure she's only half-awake at most, but fresh tears meander their way down well-trodden paths on the tiny girl's cheeks.

Yang pulls on the blankets, gently slipping underneath them to bring her sister closer. She wraps her arms underneath and around the somewhat frail younger girl, bringing her into a warm embrace, clutching her head against her own longer torso. The older girl feels some moisture seep into her oversized tan T-shirt, but her sister's breathing evens out and within minutes Yang is certain that she's fully asleep again.

She smiles ever so slightly despite the throbbing in her head, and her fingers make their way into her sister's dark hair, caressing her scalp ever so tenderly.

And Yang speaks to her, low and soft, barely even a hum, repeating the same words over and over again like a solemn vow - a promise, full of a love she didn't know she was capable of after today - before she lulls herself to sleep.

"It's okay, Ruby. I'm here. I will stay with you."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> It's been a long time since I attempted anything like this. I've been a RWBY fan since a the premiere of the first episode, and since then I think it's safe to say I've developed a pretty strong obsession - with one character, in particular.
> 
> "Scathing eyes ask that we be symmetrical, one sided and easily processed. Yet every misshapen spark's unseen beauty is greater than its would be judgement."
> 
> As with all elements of the show, every idea is imbued with so much potential - and while most things are on a slow burn, they do tend to pay off. Yang's story is something I eagerly anticipate witnessing more of, and on a deeper level. Since V4 there is so much going on beneath the surface and there's been so little screen time (as of now) to address it appropriately. So while I trust that the writers will do their part to deliver on this potential, I couldn't help but feel compelled to capitalize on the feels and flush out key moments in her life on my own terms (hopefully mostly, if not entirely, canonically).
> 
> What are your thoughts? Too much? Not enough?
> 
> Since this was very much a spur-of-the-moment write, I can't say for sure what will come next, or when. Consider this a tentative step in the pool, and if I like the feel of it (and if you do too) then I may feel compelled to continue with more snapshots like this, and eventually (separately, maybe) some more present-day/not-quite-canon/interpreted/original material.
> 
> Between the rush of writing this on a whim and learning how to use AO3 this may not be a strong or well-formatted start, so, of course, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated.
> 
> Thanks, and happy hiatus-ing!
> 
> -kms


	2. Burning Question

(six weeks after that day)

* * *

She doesn't say anything.

Her weary but hopeful smile faded early on in Taiyang's explanation.

She doesn't look at him - instead, she is fixated on the photograph on the coffee table in front of them.

Her lilac eyes (the most beautiful blend of blue and red) are wide and unblinking, darting between the younger iterations of Dad, and Mom, and Uncle Qrow, and...

That woman. Pale skin, contrasted strongly by the long, wild black locks which framed intense red eyes and a smirk that exuded confidence, arrogance - maybe self-righteousness? Her whole motif seemed to be bloody reds and midnight blacks, conveying arrogance, power, domination, rage - maybe even bloodlust.

Mom?

Mother?

No.

Raven, he had said. Qrow's twin sister, hence "Uncle" Qrow.

It hadn't occurred to Yang before now how, exactly, he was related. He was around infrequently but when he was, he always talked to both her and Ruby like they were adults - like equals. He would match their arbitrary shifts in attitude - their goofiness, their curiosity, their sincerity - with an energy that reminded Yang of Mom... of Summer. He was as genuine and honest with them as he could afford to be and for that they loved him.

What honesty he could afford was subtly but surprisingly limited, as Yang would grow keenly aware. She knew well the acrid smell that followed him around every time he came to visit, and every time he was not entertaining them, and she knew it came from the polished silver flask he kept on his person at all times. She knew well the defeated, jaded look on his stubble-shadowed face, in his eyes, that took over when he thought they weren't looking.

The sights and smells were familiar to her now - Taiyang was the same, except that he had done a poor job of hiding it in the days following the news of Summer. He had stopped putting the girls to bed, and some nights Yang would hear low, slurred mutterings from downstairs before she would close the door to their room and tuck Ruby in. Some nights instead would be eerily silent, and it wasn't until Yang once heard an outside door click shut and watched from their window as a tall figure stumbled down the path from their home into the surrounding forest in the fading light of dusk that she understood why. He had sported a few nasty bruises, tiny cuts and swollen knuckles, and smelled of pine needles and something sour and earthy the next day, but never spoke about it (Yang never asked).

And on any of those nights, when she woke from her increasingly lonesome nightmares, she felt increasingly lonesome in the waking world. Without Mom or Dad to console her, she would curl up under the blankets, squeeze one of her pillows, and cry herself back to sleep as quietly as she could to avoid waking Ruby. To her knowledge, she had succeeded in her unobtrusiveness thus far, and she counted it as a small but important victory. Ruby was too young, too innocent, and Yang could not bear to further burden the sister she knew she needed to look out for more than ever.

So, while Taiyang was much less subtle in those first few weeks, even at Yang's age she knew - either by intuition or observation - that there was more to Qrow, for better or for worse, than the "fun uncle" he tried to be.

But Raven... had just left. Yang had no memory of her. This picture was all she had ever seen that had given her any notion at all of the people Dad had gone to school with. The red-and-black woman had never been more than a minor curiosity to her - an old rival, or estranged friend, perhaps. And maybe those guesses weren't untrue, but how could she have possibly known that this stranger might be so much more?

But she left.

It didn't hurt at first, this news. Raven was a stranger, an unrelated entity who just happened to be... very much related.

But then a spark of curiosity ignited an inferno of dejection and doubt, and the question burning at the heart of it all:

Why?

Suddenly, Yang feels her throat clenching and her head burning and her vision blurring. Hot tears form in the corners of her eyes, and she is frozen in time and space, rooted to the low couch cushions (though her feet still dangle inches from the ground) as she is assaulted by distressed thoughts.

_What happened? What did I do? Does she hate me? Why doesn't she want me? Why did she leave? How could she leave me?_

_How could she leave Dad? How did she leave? Did they fight? Does she hate us?_

_Why?_

A low sigh from Taiyang breaks the silence in the room and the cacophony in her head. He had been staring at her, concerned, for what must have been at least a minute, searching for a reaction to this loaded revelation. He shifts from resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together nervously, to lean back on the couch and find one of his many focal points near the ceiling. His eyes do not grow distant anymore, but he is clearly cycling through the many images and memories he has yet to let go of.

The shift in the room dulls Yang's stormy thoughts, and she finally looks away from the photo, blinking forcefully as the warmth of her tears spreads in matching lines down her cheeks, and she tastes salt when she licks her dry lips and attempts to swallow the sadness. She tries to follow Taiyang's gaze, to see what he is seeing. Her imagination attempts to fill in some of the blanks as she pieces together their conversation.

_Dad loved Raven. Then I was born, and she left. Then Dad loved Mom... Summer. Then Ruby was born, and everything was okay. Then Mom..._

She sees the spotless white cloth and the eternal smile and the bright silver eyes. She feels the soft, warm hands and hears the pure, joyous laughter and smells the sweet, secret-ingredient-infused cookies and tastes the warm, soothing honey and lemon water that calmed her after even the worst of the nightmares.

_Summer is gone._

This did hurt at first. And it still hurt. It hurt when she suddenly pieced together why Dad had collapsed to his knees, eyes wide and mouth agape slightly as if winded, after having read from a small, simple letter from their mailbox, signed by Qrow. She did not have to see the contents of the letter to make sense of why Dad had fallen to all fours before crawling over to the nearest photo of their happy household and began stroking the image of the white-hooded woman with the eternal smile and the bright silver eyes. Even at her age, her deduction skills were developed enough to cause her to break in that moment nearly as badly as her father. That was when the screaming started, and then the collateral damage was done. Ruby, for all her innocence, could not ignore or contend with the extreme upheaval of emotion in the house, and while she did not seem to fully comprehend what Yang told her (Yang wasn't even sure what to say), it upset her at least as much as the rest of her family. The clear sky and sunny morning of that day were clouded over by anguish and grief and desperation and confusion that hung over the house like a thick fog, even after Yang gave up on Taiyang and tucked herself in with Ruby.

Today's revelation did nothing to ease the memory of that first night. Suddenly the tears are at it again, and Yang tries to bury her face in her knees, hands behind her head and back heaving in silent, shuddering sobs.

But a hand on her back, hesitant but firm, startles her to a stop. She jerks her head out of her lap and looks timidly towards her father, who for the first time in weeks is...

Smiling?

His sad blue eyes accompany the faintest of upward slants to his closed mouth. It is a look of sympathy, of love - of apology?

Suddenly unfrozen from her seat, Yang launches herself into his embrace. She catches him off guard and he falls back into the corner of the couch with his small, elder daughter clinging to his torso. He is stunned for a few seconds, but returns the gesture. It is different; not the same. But he is still holding her and she still has him for a moment, two moments, ten moments.

The sobs return, fuller than before, but she manages to squeak out the burning question, her voice muffled by his chest.

"Why?"

He simply strokes her back, brushes her hair back and sighs. The calming motions of his hands continue for what seems like hours before he responds, unexpectedly, with one of Qrow's favourite lines, which he would state so plainly, so innocently, whenever his nieces would ask about anything "bad" that any reasonable adult would consider beyond their years.

But the way Taiyang says it, the phrase suddenly feels a lot less innocent. It sounds as if he still dons his sad little smile, but his voice rings with melancholy and... anger? Something about it gives Yang a sick feeling in her gut, and she is more unsettled than comforted.

"Sometimes bad things just happen, Yang."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> This worked itself out a lot quicker than I imagined, and while I would definitely consider this a short chapter, know that it was going to be a lot longer but has since been separated into at least one other part - meaning the next update will, once again, be coming soon! Sooner than I expected, anyways.
> 
> There's a lot of what you might consider "semi-novelization" going on in this story right now, and I really am doing my best to stay as canon as possible (at least for now), so if something seems off to you, please say so! There's some more explicitly original content coming up in the next chapter (and some maybe-not-entirely-depressing stuff), so look forward to that.
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Stay tuned for Chapter 3: "For the Birds".
> 
> -kms


	3. For the Birds (Part One)

(four days later)

* * *

The breakthrough does not last.

While Taiyang continues to become slightly more functional and personable during the days, the nights are the same. More than once Yang watches him wander out into the woods, and she keeps an eye on the treeline until the stars dominate the sky, or the clouds dampen everything. One time she even watches covertly from the top of the stairs as he slurs and sobs himself into a drunken sleep on the couch, tormented by the images she cannot see.

It is the morning after this observation that she reaches up for the refrigerator door to retrieve the green jug of much-too-watery orange juice she had attempted to prepare two days prior. The last of the remaining, non-molded loaf of bread is already in the toaster for her and Ruby, and the nearly empty jar of locally made strawberry jam stands at the ready.

Yang hadn't noticed the stench before, but today when she opens the fridge she is greeted with an uncomfortably sour aroma. Despite the empty cupboards and sparsely stocked shelves within, it had not yet occurred to her that they had not been to the local market for quite some time. One of the few things inside is far past its expiration date but she cannot, at a glance, tell which. The milk, maybe? Unsure of how to proceed, she stands in a wide-eyed, sickened silence for a moment too long, starts to gag, and slams the fridge doors shut.

"Yaaang?"

Ruby's tiny, inquisitive voice tickles Yang's heartstrings and she smiles towards the doorway, forcibly stifling her olfactory discomfort. A short, red-hooded figure is stepping groggily through the doorway towards her, and the figure's blanket-cape slips down from her head to reveal her short, dark chestnut hair in a bed-headed mess, and silver eyes struggling to adjust to the sunlight pouring into the kitchen.

The shorter girl suddenly trips over her trailing blanket-cape, and in a flurry of motion, she stumbles forward-

And finds herself leaning against Yang, encircled in her older sister's firm embrace.

"Careful, Ruby!" says the elder with a chuckle. She squeezes her precious baby sister in a big hug, then gradually releases her, mussing her hair gently before turning back to the toaster.

"Sowwy..." Ruby responds sheepishly, scoffing as she re-musses her own hair to her satisfaction (which changes nothing).

There is a pause, in which she stares at Yang, who has her back turned to her as she watches the toaster. She had been getting used to the quieter moments that pervaded their home now, but she could almost hear Yang thinking hard. Yawning quietly, albeit at a near-supersonic frequency, Ruby readjusts her blanket-cape and approaches her sister, asking with more enthusiasm: "Toas'?"

Yang snaps back to reality, the gears in her head hot from the friction of coming up with a plan to resolve their food crisis. Her smile returning, she looks back at Ruby and tilts her head jovially. "Yup! Go sit and I'll bring it to you when it's ready."

The blanket-caped girl obliges, trudging (more carefully this time) over to the kitchen table. Yang's smile fades as soon as she turns away, and as she watches her sister clamber into her preferred chair, she makes a decision.

_Ka-shnk._

Two slices of bread reappear with a single bounce from the metal slots of the toaster. Yang grabs one in her left hand (Dad once said to be careful with the toaster because it could get so hot, but it never bothered her) and pushes the other piece back down for another go. With a dull knife in her right hand she manages to scrape out the remains of the strawberry jam, spreading it on the lightly toasted rye. Just enough, she thinks, nodding approvingly and sending a thankful glance in the direction of the emptied jar, knife now sticking out from inside - a banner signifying depletion. She grabs her sister's favourite small, round red plate from the drying rack next to the sink, plating the single slice of toast with jam as neatly as possible before turning towards the table. Balancing the plate at eye level with her right hand, she approaches an enraptured Ruby with as much poise and dignity as she can muster.

"Your breakfast, dear," Yang says in her best fancy waiter voice, keeping her chin up and eyebrows raised. Ruby stifles an adorable giggle (Yang almost loses her composure) as she grabs the plate with a little too much vigour, nearly losing the toast as she positions the plate in front of her. She licks her lips but then pauses, eyes narrowing.

"Cwussst!" she exclaims with disgust.

Yang drops the charade but keeps one eyebrow raised, giving Ruby a look of incredulity. Ruby meets her gaze, pouting dramatically, and a silent "Really, sis?" is silently voiced between their eyes.

"It's just the outside of the bread! It's just more toasty, oka-"

"Noooo! I hate it!"

_Ka-shnk._

Yang turns back towards the toaster. "Ruby, you ate your crust yesterday!" She keeps her voice level and calm but her exasperation is more apparent in her tone than usual.

"Noooo! I din't!" Ruby's brow furrows and she crosses her arms, staring down angrily at the table, away from her plate. Her attitude shifts suddenly and her eyes narrow once more as she looks to Yang again. "Milk?"

Yang deflates a bit, sighing as she grabs the darker (and final) piece of toast with her fingers. She then grabs a yellow plate for herself, as well as the jam jar and the knife before returning to the table and pulling up a chair of her own. Her sister is glaring disapprovingly at her. "Sorry, Ruby. This is all we have for breakfast today," she replies, attempting to mask her memory of the sour aroma from the fridge with another smile. She briefly considers braving it once more for the much-too-watery orange juice but instead focuses on reaching for the red plate, pulling it towards her. With the knife in hand, she begins sawing away at the crusts.

Immediately placated, Ruby smiles and watches intently once more as her breakfast is re-prepared. Her hand dives for it again before the plate is even in front of her, but Yang gently blocks the tiny, reaching fingers.

"Ah ah ah - what do you saaay?"

"Faaank yooouuu Yaaang," warbles the younger girl, smiling up at her big sister before the exchange of goods is complete and she hungrily bites into her toast with jam.

Yang takes a bite of her crispier bread and then reaches for the jam jar. The inside is still sticky with the dregs of the preservative, and she manages to fish out a thin layer with her fingers, loudly slurping them clean after each bite of her own breakfast, drawing out more soft giggles from Ruby.

It is hardly a real meal and Yang knows it well. Gone are the days of Dad's breakfast skillets - eggs, potatoes, sausage, bacon, and sometimes (if he was subtle about it) onions and peppers, disguised by globs of melted cheese and a healthy amount of seasoning. Ruby had been too young and too enamored with strawberry jam (the delivery vehicle never mattered - pancakes, toast, crackers, you name it) to ever really experience these heaping plates of warm, home-cooked goodness. Yang resists the urge to frown as she finishes her toast.

In the mid-meal silence Yang can now hear the faint sound of Dad snoring from the living room. She gets off of her chair and brings her various utensils to the sink, stepping up on a short plastic stool to reach the faucet. She washes the jar, the knife, and her plate before Ruby is suddenly next to her, smiling and handing her the matching red plate. It hardly appears to be in need of a wash - not a crumb remains. Yang finishes the job and dries her hands as Ruby turns and wanders toward the living room.

"Ruby, wait!" she exclaims with a little more volume than she intended. The smaller girl pauses, silver eyes following Yang curiously as she clumsily leaps into the doorway, blocking her path with arms outstretched. "We can't wake Dad yet," she not-quite-whispers, eyes wide. Ruby tilts her head questioningly, but Yang, still formulating the details of her plan, has not thought of what to say next. She silently chastises herself for letting her desperation and uncertainty show.

"Why?" asks Ruby with such incredible innocence that Yang almost doesn't notice the queasy, burning sensation welling up inside her as that question echoes in her mind. Another second of silence follows as an unblinking Yang refocuses and finds her explanation.

"We... are going to surprise him! ...Yeah! How does that sound?"

Ruby's silver eyes sparkle with excitement as she grips the edges of her blanket-cape. "Okay!"

Her sister seemingly satisfied with this vague answer, Yang relaxes and lowers her arms, going in for a hug. Ruby is all too happy to oblige, and they embrace. The gears are still turning in Yang's head, but she has an idea. She's pretty sure Dad's wallet is on the end table by the front door. Surely some fresh food for dinner would cheer him up. Maybe he would feel like making something other than sandwi-

"Myaaaangm..." Ruby, her voice muffled against Yang's chest, starts to push back from their embrace, which Yang then realizes has yet again turned into a one-sided squeeze. Not entirely sorry, she reluctantly releases her sister, mussing her hair once more, eliciting a high-pitched grumble.

Pleased with the plan-in-progress, Yang exclaims with renewed enthusiasm, "Go get dressed! We're going to the market!"

* * *

Leaving is easier than anticipated.

Taiyang snores loudly but steadily, masking the girls' footsteps as they tiptoe down the stairs and out the door. Yang had easily located his wallet and the keys to the shed, merely fishing them out from between the mostly-empty dark glass bottles that dotted the various surfaces in the living room. She had dressed herself in simple black knee-length shorts, a plain beige tunic that tied at the sides and was held in place by a caramel-coloured belt, thick orange socks that made her sturdy brown shoes just a little bit too snug, and completed her idea of a practical hiking outfit with a yellow handkerchief tied loosely around her neck. She had pulled back her shoulder-blade-length yellow hair into two rough bunches that she tied off with thin yellow ribbon. Summer would frequently tie up Yang's hair this way, calling the style "pigtails" (a name which Yang wasn't overly fond of). For the past several weeks Yang had been doing her best to recreate this style.

Ruby, now fully awake and nearly vibrating with energy, had donned a simple pleated black skirt, a sleeveless white shirt and her favourite sleeveless red hoodie, which had the bonus of a sewn-on cape with matching red fabric, lovingly added by Mo-

_No, Summer._

_Ruby's Mom._

_I'm not Summer's daughter._

This was not new information, but it hadn't quite resonated with her this plainly yet. So when Yang stands motionless in the unlocked, open doorway of the shed, Ruby loses her patience with her slowpoke older sister and tears inside to dig out her favourite red wagon from under dusty and precarious stacks of rusting tools, chipped planters and pots, instruction manuals, folder files, buckets of nails and spare parts - all shoved out of sight and out of mind, to be dealt with at some later, happier date.

_KLANG._

The sound of something heavy and metal hitting the poured concrete floor of the shed snaps Yang back to reality, adrenaline flooding her veins. She sees the head of a garden hoe lying inches from Ruby's ankles, then looks up into surprised silver eyes.

"Oopsie..." mumbles the smaller girl, whose posture is hunched over in self-preservation, eyes locked with her sister's. It takes a second for the adrenaline boost to allow Yang use of her voice, and she knits her eyebrows.

"Ruby, be careful! You could have knocked everything over!" It isn't quite a shout but the momentary panic definitely boosted the volume. Hearing tones of anger and blame in her voice, she instantly regrets it. Silver eyes begin to cloud beneath a new layer of moisture, and small lips start to quiver. Otherwise, Ruby remains glued to the spot, but Yang knows the damage is done. She silently chastises herself for the second time today.

"Sowwy..." The hint of a sob follows Ruby's trailing apology.

Desperate to avert a crisis, Yang notices that in the midst of Ruby's frozen posture, one of her hands remains wrapped firmly around a handle-

The wagon!

Dropping to her knees and hugging her precious baby sister once more, Yang interjects before tears are loosed from the silver eyes. "No, Ruby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice at you like that, you were just trying to help. And you did! See?" She gestures to the wagon, which miraculously doesn't appear to be bearing any weight from the junk in the shed. She puts her hand on top of Ruby's, and together they pull the red wooden wagon out from the mess with ease.

Sniffling slightly, but clearly relieved (or at least distracted) by her success, Ruby responds "S'okay, Yang!" and hugs back one more time. Yang feels her insides melt a little bit at her sister's forgiveness, and smiles.

"Let's go! We want to be back in time for lunch, in case Dad wakes up!"

* * *

The dirt road is wide and even enough that they have a clear path for the entirety of their journey, well lit by a cloudless day, and warmed by the late summer sun. The forest, anticipating the fall weather, has begun to turn colours earlier than usual, and some browns and reds and golds already speckle the edge of the road. The towers of Signal Academy loom above the trees on the horizon, serving as their directional landmark.

Ruby insists on pulling the mostly-empty wagon (a lone thermos filled with tapwater sloshes around in the back, clanging noisily with every bump in the road) as soon as they lock up the shed. She makes it down the entryway to their property, past the mailbox, and about thirty feet down the road in the direction of town before she stops abruptly, pleading with Yang to take the handle. Yang obliges happily, and Ruby spends the remainder of the twenty minute walk rushing around, dodging imaginary monsters and foiling all sorts of bad guys' plans. Yang participates as she is able, often narrating Ruby's hyperactive (and often clumsy) "moves": flips, spins, jumps, punches, twirls, rolls, kicks, and so on. Occasionally, just as the young warrior outruns or defeats an opponent, Yang shouts "Oh no! Another one!" or "Look! A Beowolf!" and the action begins anew. The rare passerby or neighbour watches with amusement at a distance before the girls' realize their company - suddenly shy and quiet, restraining themselves as they pass and exchange greetings.

The time flies by and soon the sisters are walking slightly downhill, towards a gradual clearing. Beyond the clearing are the metal roofs of a few dozen wooden buildings, some framed with stone. The thin, shallow sea between Patch and Vale can be glimpsed occasionally in the spaces between buildings, and Signal Academy now watches over them from further to the left. Yang thinks she can see the distant silhouette of another tower on the horizon, across the water - Beacon Academy, in the heart of Vale, where Dad went to school with Qrow and... Summer.

And Raven.

The town of Patch (sharing the name of the island as a whole) is a small port community with little in the way of defensive infrastructure save for a tall wooden fence that runs the perimeter of the settlement, with open gates occasionally leading out to the main roads through the island's forest. The creatures of Grimm have seldom been a problem here thanks to the relatively small land mass and the relatively shallow waters around the island. Any sightings are usually dealt with by the few local Hunstmen and teachers at Signal (including Taiyang). As a result, a number of young families make their homes in Patch, content to be away from the bustling of the city yet still in relative safety.

Signal Academy makes its home just outside of the perimeter wall to the north, surrounding itself with the forests so that until approached directly, only the pointed tops of the two outermost towers and the larger central bell tower can be seen. Yang could vaguely remember Dad bringing her inside to show her where he worked, but she had been too young to register most of it. The memory smelled of old books and sweat, which made her think there had been a decent-sized library and maybe a small, mirrored room where people pretended to fight each other.

A small but thriving marketplace near the docks is usually the main source of activity on any given day, and it is here that Yang and Ruby find themselves a little overwhelmed by the many sights and sounds and smells. Without their father to navigate and decide on their purchases, suddenly the task of finding simple groceries seems far more difficult than Yang had imagined. But as Yang focuses her senses, she also remembers her other goal.

Ruby is busy drooling at the sight of some fresh-baked pastries nicely laid out at a small market stall when a voice catches Yang's attention. It is an older, masculine voice, slightly strained, but carrying a certain authority that jogs Yang's memory.

"My goodnesss, Yang, it has been too long! What bringss Little Misss Ssunshine to the market today?" A stout, tanned man with patchy, grey hair (mostly bald) looks down at Yang with small green eyes, showing slightly crooked teeth as he smiles broadly. A gap in the front of his teeth causes a faint whistling sound as he breathes through his smile. Yang can't place the name, and scans the rest of him for a clue. He wears a dark green suit jacket over a pale yellow dress shirt that looks like it has only barely survived a number of meal stains in the (very noticeable) belly area. A familiar-looking coat of arms is embroidered on the left breast of his jacket. His legs together, in faded brown trousers and thick leather shoes, present an image of stability - almost like a tree...

"Mr. Conifer!" She exclaims, suddenly calling to mind a brief memory of meeting this man at Signal Academy on that same visit years prior. Dad had introduced him as the Headmaster, which made him Dad's boss...

"Pleasse, call me Douglasss," he chuckles, the gap in his teeth whistling a bit more noticeably. He glances in Ruby's direction with a look of genuine interest. "Ah, you're here with your sisster... Ruby, yess?"

"Yes... sir!" Yang blurts out. Suddenly focused on keeping his attention without getting Ruby's, she immediately offers an answer to his first question: "We're getting groceries. We're going to surprise Dad." She positions herself around the Headmaster so as to keep an eye on Ruby in the background, who has caught the attention of the stall owner, a dark-skinned woman with tired eyes and tiny antlers (a "Faunus", then, according to Dad) who appears delighted to have enthralled someone so adorable.

"Ohoho, how thoughtful. Jusst like your mother," he says thoughtfully, a hint of sadness in his voice with the latter statement.

Yang freezes up, unsure of what to say. A pang of anguish clenches her throat, and she wants to correct him.  _Not my mother_.

"You have my deepest ssympathiesss... thiss cannot be an eassy time for any of you," he says, clasping his hands together in front of his belly and bowing slightly. Yang just nods. "Pleasse remind your father to take as much time as he needsss."

Taiyang had been an instructor at Signal Academy for as long as Yang could remember, but ever since the news of Summer arrived, he had taken leave, with Headmaster Conifer's express permission. She appreciated the Headmaster's kindness; it was clear he cared very genuinely for their family's well-being. He had said a few short words at the small ceremony they had near Summer's gravestone when it was first put in place. Yang could not remember the words but remembered how she felt her own sadness validated by them.

As the old man begins to turn back towards Ruby, who is being offered a tiny chocolate chip muffin by the Faunus woman, Yang once more looses a few clumsy words to keep the conversation just between them:

"D'you know Raven?"

The Headmaster looks back at Yang curiously, but does not otherwise react to the name or the question as a whole. "Who'ss'at now?"

"Raven... She's... um, was, Dad's friend," she manages, choosing her words carefully.

"Don't think I've heard of her, no..." He pauses, stroking a thin wisp of nearly invisible hair protruding from his chin. If he hadn't starting stroking it she probably wouldn't have noticed it at all. "Ssorry, my dear. If that'ss part of your little surprisse then I'm afraid this old memory won't be of any help!" He taps his temple as he says this and chuckles heartily.

Yang visibly deflates. She sees her sister cramming the tiny muffin into her mouth, carelessly smearing chocolate all over her face in the process.

"Tell ya what, young Misss Xiao Long," the Headmaster says, kneeling down (with great effort - his joints creak audibly) to lock eyes with Yang at her level. Once settled, he wheezes slightly as he smiles more broadly. "You tell me what groceriess you need and I'll pitch in what I can."

Her mouth opens slightly in surprise, unsure of how to respond. The offer seems unfathomably charitable, and yet she feels like she should say no. To her knowledge Dad had more than enough money, but then... she had taken his wallet, without him knowing. Was that stealing? Guilt began to creep into her gut, and mixed with a sense of... shame? Shame that they were even in this situation, partially relying on the kindness of others.

Headmaster Conifer seems to sense her hesitation and pats her shoulder gently with gnarled hands. "The kindnesss of one should beget the kindnesss of otherss, no?" He holds her gaze for a moment, eyes sparkling, before continuing, "That'ss what my father once told me, anywayss." He rises up once more, with even greater effort and more wheezing.

In the background, the Faunus woman gingerly wipes Ruby's mouth free of melted chocolate. Ruby is smiling profusely, and looks back at Yang as if desperate to introduce her new best friend - the woman with the muffins and the antlers. A complex mix of gratitude, guilt, pride, shame, desperation, and sadness keeps Yang quiet as the old man catches his breath.

"Ssso! What should we get you girlss today?"

* * *

Ruby sits in the wagon, holding as many of the brown paper grocery bags in place as she can with her limited arm span. Though too tired to physically walk, she seems to have unlimited energy within the confines of the rickety vehicle, constantly moving her arms around to right a toppled bag only to have a previously held bag shift instead. The task holds her focus tremendously well, which Yang is grateful for as she pulls them along.

Headmaster Conifer - Douglas, he had insisted - made sure they had all the essentials Yang could think of, and then some. She could not find it within her to turn down his generosity but something about carting home so many goods they had not paid for themselves made her feel uneasy. But it was something else that had really mellowed her.

Douglas didn't know Raven. And as they went around to each stall in the market to pick up food, Yang made a point of staying behind just long enough to ask each stall owner the same question, just out of earshot of Ruby and the Headmaster. And each time, a puzzled look, a frown, and a negatory answer, sometimes with a smile or an apology. There had been one older woman who had recognized the name, seeming to think a "Raven" might have lived on Patch at one time, but could not offer any further details - no new information. She silently chastises herself for the third time today, feeling foolish for having hoped for... anything.

The words of the Headmaster echo in her head.

_Thoughtful, like Summer._

The sun is just past its zenith, and the air is hot, only disturbed by the rare sea breeze that finds its way down the path from the port town.

_Ruby is like Summer._

Sweat beads on Yang's forehead, causing her bangs to become clingy, and occasionally she has to brush them aside with her free hand.

_I'm Raven's daughter._

The bumpy dirt road occasionally catches Yang off guard, tripping her up ever so slightly in her distracted state of mind. This agitates her, if only incrementally.

_I can't be like Summer._

She brushes away a floating orange leaf from in front of her face, and looks ahead to a fork in the road. To the left continues the road home; to the right, the path to the cliffside - to Summer's gravestone.

_I can't be like Ruby._

She remembers a sullen Uncle Qrow pulling them both in the red wagon, away from the engraved stone, on a smaller trail through the woods. Dad stayed behind.

_What's Raven like?_

She continues to the left, passing the occasional driveway and numbered mailbox. The breezes have subsided and everything is quiet, save for the steady creaking and crunching of footsteps and wheels on the dirt road.

_Am I like Raven?_

She squeezes her eyes shut in frustration, and instead refocuses on counting along with the increasing numerals on the mailboxes as they get further from town. A quick glance over her shoulder reveals a sleeping Ruby, flopped over on more bags than she could previously steady while sitting up. Yang thinks for a second that the bread and fruit within might get squished and is tempted to wake her sister, but relents, savouring the peace and quiet.

But as she continues to count along with the mailboxes, the question resurfaces before their own property comes into sight.

_Why?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Yet again this story keeps expanding on itself as I write. You probably have a pretty good idea of what happens in Part Two, but if writing it out goes anything like this, there will be plenty of embellishment with the canon material to (hopefully) be of interest.
> 
> Thanks for your interest in this story. Please take a moment to give some feedback (reactions, thoughts, suggestions, etc) as I'm still flying by the seat of my pants in some ways and would love to know what readers are(n't) getting out of this! I hope the young Yang/Ruby interactions are as adorable/believable as they are in my mind.
> 
> Expect Part Two within the next week; as July goes on I can't guarantee I will have as much time to write but know that we will get into writing about (relatively) present-day Yang soon enough.
> 
> -kms


	4. For the Birds (Part Two)

(later that day)

* * *

They arrive home in good time, Taiyang still sleeping in a tangled sprawl on the couch, snores now muffled by a pillow. Yang, hot and sweaty from her exertions, has just enough energy left to hoist Ruby from the wagon, onto her back, and up the stairs towards their bedroom. She figures the morning adventure might keep her out for another hour or so, and makes sure to lay her down gently on her red-themed bed. Yang carefully removes tiny shoes and socks, closing the door almost all of the way before heading back downstairs. Her legs protest further exertion, but her mind is active and focused on the objective of their adventure.

All of the objectives of their adventure.

The red wagon awaits her at the bottom of the stairs, just next to the closed front door (any further in the house might get her in trouble) so as to unload their groceries. Eight brown paper bags... four trips? Maybe she could double up. The less trips to and from the kitchen, the less chance of waking Dad early.

She loads her up right hand first, grabbing the bag with the apples, bananas and cherries, as well as the bag with the two loaves of "Vale's Best" rye ("Only the besst for you girlss today!" the Headmaster had said). She has a sturdy grip and then attempts to grab two adjacent bags with her left hand, but the one with the milk carton is too heavy and she has to settle for only taking three bags on the first go.

She has to reach a bit to push the bags past the ledge of the kitchen counter, and moves the stool from near the sink for the subsequent trips. She only manages to carry two bags the next time; preservatives (more strawberry jam) in one and several packages of heavy noodles in the other. She grumbles quietly as she approaches the last three bags, determined to get them all back to the kitchen in one final journey. Various greens ("You'll ssee the value in thesse one day!" the Headmaster had said), small boxes of rice and cereal, packets of spices, a carton of eggs, vacuum-sealed packs of fresh meat, a small box of miniature muffins ("I can tell thesse will be well taken care of!") and a carton of yogurt, all poke out at odd angles, ready to burst from their weak paper holding cells.

Realizing the potential folly of grabbing with her hands alone, she bends over and wraps her arms around the three bags, lifting them carefully in a not-too-tight hug. Feeling secure, she begins trotting awkwardly over to the doorway of the kitchen. She cannot see her feet, or the floor for that matter, and a head of lettuce partially obscures the left side of her remaining field of vision. Halfway to the doorway she feels the bag in the middle - the one with the eggs - start to slip through her hug. She stops in her tracks, attempting to squeeze harder and lock it into place without crushing anything. She considers setting the bags down but worries that in trying to do so something may fall out, and getting the bags back into her embrace once more could be troublesome. Once she feels secure again she slowly steps forward.

_Fsh-CRSHK-plsht_. Yang gasps in surprise.

An unsettlingly slow-moving fluid splatters on her legs and begins to drip down, pooling with the gradually soaking paper bag that had just left her carry-hug. The instant she had begun to move again, the bag with the egg carton (and the lighter spice packets) had slipped right through. She now stands in a pool of shattered eggs, and feels a rapid progression of devastation, frustration, and then panic.

"Uhh! Huh, wha-" Taiyang quickly, if clumsily, jolts into a semi-upright position on the couch, looking over towards the source of the commotion.

Lilac eyes turn towards the frantic movement of limbs and then-

Silence.

Yang hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't the dumbstruck stare that now has her rooted to the spot. Taiyang seems to be scanning her for any discrepancies that might reveal her to be one of his ghosts. Beyond uncomfortable with this examination, she wants so badly to look away from his piercing blue eyes but feels that their eye contact is a sort of lifeline, and she fears that to break it now could mean he would not reach for another. She ignores the feeling of egg white dripping down her ankles and holds her breath.

When he finally blinks, she exhales audibly and opens her mouth to explain. When no sound comes out, she feels a hotness behind her eyes and a tightness in her throat. She is too tired and upset with the situation to resist, and the tears leak out as if from a faucet as she begins sobbing quietly, glued to the spot by a pool of shattered eggs.

Taiyang's eyes begin to dart around, clearly disoriented and very much surprised by the inexplicable apparition of his eldest daughter, crying openly just above the two grocery bags still hugged to her chest. He scrambles to his feet, knocking a bottle off of the coffee table in the process, and fumbles his way over to her. He drops unceremoniously to his knees right in front of her, feeling the edge of the pooling egg white begin to cling loosely to his skin (he hadn't changed out of his trusty cargo shorts in days). He stops there, however, with his arms raised in the vague beginning of... something. A hug, maybe? Should he take the groceries? Maybe move her out of the puddle?

Paternal panic makes the decision for him, and before he can register his own movements he has his hands firmly on her shoulders and he is looking her in the face. She has screwed her eyes shut and starts to hang her head in defeat. A brief glance over his shoulder allows him to survey the room, but for what? All he sees is a maze of bottles and dusty furniture, some of it askew from its proper place in the living room.

Looking back, he gently takes the bags from Yang's arms (they fall to her side, lifeless) and places the goods to the side, far away from the egg puddle. He returns his right hand to her left shoulder, and with his right hand he reaches for her chin, tenderly lifting her face up from the floor. His fingers become dampened by the tears that had been dribbling down her face, but they make eye contact again, her lilacs shimmering with moisture. She looks utterly defeated and it threatens to break a part of him he hadn't realized he had left.

She sniffles, and the flow of tears pauses, and then he croaks out the only words he can think of in his current state of mind. "I've made quite the mess, haven't I?"

He doesn't so much as pull her into a hug as let her fall into his embrace, which they hold for one long and comforting minute.

* * *

She could tell he still wasn't all there, but a spark had brought enough life into him to get him to be Dad again for the remainder of the day. He had helped her clean up the mess, which he assured her was not anything to feel bad about - and why did she have all these groceries, anyway?

As he helps her wipe herself clean of grocery debris, she recounts their meeting with Headmaster Conifer ("Ah, old Dougie, what a guy..." Dad interjects softly), and delivers his message: Take as much time as you need. Dad closes his eyes and nods slowly, a wan smile on his lips.

She doesn't tell him about her own inquiries.

From here they begin taking stock of their new supplies. He reaches to open the fridge, which elicits a squeak of alarm from Yang, who shakes her head rapidly, but he has already pried the doors open when he registers her pleading. She leaves the room as she hears him coughing and choking on the noxious fumes from within.

He painstakingly disposes of the spoiled foodstuffs alone while Yang cringes, then giggles from the living room as he opens the windows all around the first floor to help disperse the unpleasant scent.

Soft footsteps from above draw her attention to the top of the stairs, where a yawning, barefoot Ruby stands rubbing her eyes.

"Come on sleepyhead, Dad's up!" she calls up to her sister with more energy than she thought she had left.

Silver eyes snap open. A red blur streaks down the stairs, and Yang is almost startled when she feels ten tiny fingers gripping her own right hand.

"Daddieeee?" inquires the younger sister, voice slowly rising out of human hearing range as she lingers on the word until she runs out of breath.

"Come on in, Ruby, Yang! We should be able to breathe now," chimes their father from the kitchen. "Let's have some lunch!"

* * *

Lunch was simple - a quick and easy sampling of their fresh groceries that sated the lingering hunger pangs that Yang had been growing accustomed to.

Dinner, however, was spectacular - at least by comparison to anything they had eaten in the last month. Taiyang had spent most of the afternoon preparing meats and vegetables and noodles, which he had worked into a sumptuous pasta stir-fry. Ruby had refused to try it until Yang made a show of slurping her noodles loudly, inciting high-pitched giggles (and a fatherly eye roll). Ruby followed Yang's example, and upon actually finishing her first noodle, found she actually loved the flavour. There was more than enough food to merit multiple leftover servings, but that didn't stop the three from stuffing themselves.

As they sit back in their chairs, Ruby suddenly launches into her own retelling of the day's events - mostly about the woman from the market with the muffins and the antlers. She didn't know her name, but is determined to visit and get more goodies from her in the future. Yang helps fill in the blanks where Ruby neglects to mention a specific detail, and skims over the relatively uneventful ride home, which Ruby is convinced she should remember - but just can't for some reason.

Through all of this, Taiyang sits and watches and listens, smiling contently, even laughing along and asking questions. Eventually, though, his gaze shifts upwards and his eyes become unfocused, and the smile fades ever so slightly. As the conversation comes to a natural conclusion, he offers to clear the table, letting the girls go outside to play before bath time and bed time.

Yang thinks she sees him wiping his eyes over at the sink as they leave the room.

* * *

She is brushing her teeth, bare feet planted firmly on a simple wooden stool, leaning over the upstairs sink when she hears a dull thump (and a really bad word) and a small crash - like the shattering of a small piece of glass - from downstairs. She pauses, looking into her own startled expression - wide lilac eyes shrouded in dark circles unhealthy for anyone, much less a girl her age.

After a few seconds, a faint  _ch-click_. The front door.

She rinses her mouth, careful to hold back her thoroughly clean (almost glowing) hair from slipping into the sink, and steps down from the stool, returning her yellow toothbrush to a yellow cup next to the faucet, framing the sink with the matching red cup and toothbrush on the other side.

Yang listens again.

Silence.

This silence is familiar. But the preceding sounds have her somewhat concerned for a few reasons, and she peeks into her room to see Ruby still asleep, passed out after Yang had read her the latest chapter from her favourite story (one of many about daring Huntsmen, handsome princes and beautiful maidens). Their bath had significantly mellowed them both, allowing the day's excitement to catch up with their tired bodies. Ruby could barely keep her eyes open when Yang had started reading, and the elder sister had continued reading to the end of the chapter anyways, even after it was obvious the younger was asleep.

Relieved for one reason, Yang heads for the staircase, treading softly, although she knows there is no longer anyone on the main floor to hear her. The wooden banister is cold to the touch and she feels a chilly late summer breeze emanating from an open window. Looking through the rails on her way down, she sees an end table near the couch slightly out of place.

As she nears the floor, she can make out small shards of something scattered across the edge of the pale green rug and the wooden floorboards next to it, glinting in the early moonlight. She tiptoes closer, peering around the misplaced end table to see the point of impact, careful not to step on what must be broken glass.

A small, stand-up picture frame lies on the ground, glass front broken, and the frame appears to have cracked in the corner. But she does not linger on the mess, because the picture itself draws her attention.

Summer, Taiyang, Raven and Qrow look back at her, their faces young and eager and confident - ready to take on the world.

It's the same photo that has been in the living room for as long as she can remember, but the breaking of its protective case has caused it to fold over a little in the middle, and she thinks she sees something written inside the fold, on the back of the picture.

_Why?_

Muted questions nag from the back of Yang's mind, and she is compelled to gingerly fish the photo out from the remains of the frame. She gasps as she slits her right index fingertip ever so slightly against the jagged glass on the inside of the frame, and a tiny line of red forms but does not threaten to spill out. With a little more care, she retrieves her prize and smooths out the crease in the photo before turning it over in her hands.

A short message is scrawled on the back in jagged cursive, in black ink. She is first drawn to the name that seems to sign off the message:

"Raven".

The message itself she can barely read but within it she thinks she can make out an address.

An address not unlike their own.

An address sharing the same road, but farther from the town of Patch.

An address she could reach.

She commits the number to memory before doing her best to return the picture to the smashed frame. The silence presses in around her and she feels a strong compulsion to return upstairs to the safety of the light from her bedside lamp. At the same time, she wants to take action, but her limbs suddenly feel heavier as if to remind her of the day's exertions.

Physically exhausted, she retreats to their bedroom and crawls into her yellow-themed bed. She stares up at the ceiling for a few minutes before turning the light off and shifting into a comfortable position.

But she lies awake for another hour, mind racing.

_Are you there, Mom?_

* * *

The next day, Yang finds Taiyang sprawled once more across the couch, new bottles sitting empty on the table. It occurs to her that they had not brought anything of the sort back from the market, and yet there seem to be a few more almost every day. The picture lies face up on the table and the mess of the frame seems to have been carefully cleaned up. Had he tidied it when he got home or had he recently woken up, cleaned, and then gone back to sleep?

Her curiosity is overwhelmed by satisfaction, however, when she casually walks into the kitchen and realizes there is unspoiled food readily available. She feels an odd sense of pride well up in her chest.

_I did this._

She feels warm and confident and awake, where she had previously been sore and uncertain and groggy. It is a good feeling. She smiles to herself, suddenly more sure of this one thing than anything she could remember:

_I can do this._

* * *

The day went better than most; Yang and Ruby played and lazed about as usual, sometimes with the addition of a perkier-than-usual Taiyang. They once again ate real meals and had real conversations that pertained to their activities and curiosities (to an extent) and shared real hugs and kisses until nightfall, when he retreated into himself once more.

Thought it saddens her, it is to be expected - and this time, Yang is counting on it.

Ruby is already asleep, and Yang has just turned out their bedside lamp for the night. She once again lies awake, listening intently for any sounds from downstairs.

Many long minutes pass, and she begins to wonder if he has already fallen asleep on the couch.

_Ch-click_.

The unmistakable sound of the front door sends a jolt of electricity down her spine. She counts to five, then vigorously tears herself free of her comforter, still dressed in her shorts and tunic.

She tip-toe-hops down the stairs as quietly as she can, and glances out the window to see the silhouette of Taiyang trudging towards the road. He disappears into the darkness of the forest, the increasingly barren branches of the trees reaching up into the fading hues of sunset. The sky is partially overcast, clouds moving by relatively quickly, and she is certain that between the occasional lampposts and any lingering sunlight or eventual moonlight, she will be able to find what she's looking for.

She puts on her thickest pair of orange socks and slips on her right shoe, and begins to fumble with the laces in her anticipation of executing her plan.

_I can do this. I'm going to do this._

_What if I find her? Maybe she'll come back?_

_Dad will be so happy. And maybe Raven could be Mom after all._

_Ruby would probably be happy to have a Mom again.  
_

_Ruby..._

Yang is halfway through looping the laces when she freezes.

_Ruby._

She sits there, stumped, her excitement waning. She wouldn't be that long, right? Dad would be back before too long, as well, right? Besides, she's asleep, right?

_What if she wakes up while we're both gone?_

She realizes her oversight and quietly berates herself for having neglected to consider her sister in the execution of this plan. This is the only time she could do this without Dad or Ruby watching or coming with or wanting to know where she's going. But she can't leave Ruby alone.

_Maybe I don't have to leave her alone..._

* * *

The wagon creaks loudly on the bumpy road, but the wind whistling through the many nearly-leafless tress disperses the noise.

Yang feels strangely calm despite her elevated heartbeat. Even the early autumn-afflicted forest, dark trunks and spindly branches casting jagged shadows upon the already darkened road and lit only by the cloud-warped light of dusk, does not deter her.

With her right hand she pulls the wagon along, careful to avoid any major depressions in the road that might jostle the tiny vehicle.

She had carefully lined the inside of the wagon with extra bedding and blankets, both to comfort and reduce the impact of the road on Ruby, who now lies inside, partially curled up amidst the cushioning. Yang had also gingerly slipped the red hoodie over the sleeping girl, in case the chill of the breeze might wake her. She had counted on the fact that her sister was a notoriously heavy sleeper, and so far their adventure was only further proof of this.

_I'm doing this_ , she wordlessly repeats to herself over and over. She has never been this far down the road - this far from the town of Patch. But she knows her objective lies in wait, supposedly not too far away. She lets her imagination run through as many scenarios as she can think of.

_If we don't find it..._  She dismisses this idea; the address is clear enough. It should be just up ahead.

_If Raven is there..._  She can't think of what might come next. The endless possibilities overwhelm her. She'll just have to wait and see.

_If she's not there..._  She begrudgingly acknowledges this possibility, but avoids considering its likelihood.

_If Ruby wakes up, we're... going on a secret mission?_  She frowns, gears turning, but cannot think of anything better.  _Maybe I can just get her to go back to sleep._

_If_ _Dad gets back before us..._  She somewhat bitterly resolves that she should be able to turn any questions or concerns right back at him.  _Why did YOU leave? Where did YOU go? ...Maybe we went looking for YOU!_  She feels her body temperature rise, her fist clenching as she imagines herself unleashing a tirade of pent up frustration and desperation on him in hopes of snapping him out of his stupor.

_If there's nothing there..._  No. There has to be something there. She refuses to think otherwise, and returns to thinking about how she might interact with Raven if - no, when - she finds her.  _What would she say? What would I say?_

They have passed three other properties before Yang begins to notice the trek seeming to drag along. The road has become slightly hillier, and she realizes that there have been more and more evenly-spaced lampposts between properties since they passed their immediate neighbours' home. What should have been a short trip is turning into a lengthy journey as properties become fewer and farther between. She hasn't found the number yet - they're only a few digits away but at this rate it could be much farther than she had thought.

She begins to feel her limbs pleading for a break, but she is determined.

_No turning back now._

The shifting elevation and gradual turns of the road and the darkening sky and the sparser leaves and the denser forest - all of these glance off her iron will.

Even when she slips on the gravelly path and falls hard on her left hand and knees.

Even when she doesn't see a low-hanging branch and it scrapes her across the forehead and pulls on her bangs.

Even when she hears the omniscient calls of owls and the ominous cries of distant wolves and the throaty caws of blackbirds.

Even when she trips on a larger stone embedded in the road and momentarily loses her grip on the wagon, falling flat on her chin and stomach.

Even when she scrambles backward to latch on and keep her sister from rolling back down the hill.

Even when one of her pigtails gets caught in the brambles at the side of the road as she pushes herself back to her feet.

Even when she feels a tiny tickling sensation on her left arm and she finds a small beetle frantically trying to make sense of its new surroundings.

Even when she hears her sister murmuring in her sleep after rolling over a particularly sneaky pothole.

Even when her feet are burning with soreness and her legs are cramping.

Even when she loses sight of the edge of the road as the clouds take over and the lampposts are periodically without light and then are no more.

Even when there has been no sign of anything but old, neglected trail and unkempt forest.

Then, the moonlight makes a break for it, not quite breaching the cloud cover but casting a pale glow through the grey, and she can see further ahead. There are a number of smaller trails - footpaths, at best - branching off of what is rapidly becoming less and less of a road. She continues along the largest trail, and finally begins to acknowledge the doubt and the pain and the exhaustion.

Just as she feels her limbs grow heavy and her pace start to slow, something catches her eye.

A clearing, maybe?

Something in the clearing?

Her heartbeat picks up and suddenly she is immune to her body's protests again. She jerks forward with greater intent, easing down off the peak of their current hill and rounding the corner...

A house? No. A barn? No. A shack, or shed, of some sort, maybe. Two-ish stories in the middle, all wood but cracked and splintered and generally falling apart, round-ish shingled roof caved in all over the place, windows shattered (were they boarded up at one time?), double doorway open wide into darkness. It was a mess. She almost wanted to turn around and leave in an initial wave of disappointment, when she saw it.

Above the doorway, the nearly imperceptible trace of what was once an address that would have been nailed on, digit by digit. The darker spots, once protected from sun-fading, vaguely shaped like numbers...

_This is it._

_I made it._

She stood there in front of the building, in the mouth of the clearing, staring at the doorway. Her adrenaline can no longer keep her body's alarm systems at bay and her legs nearly give way beneath her. She retains her grip on the wagon by only the faintest touch. Her mouth, frequently shut tightly and jaw clenched, slackens so that it hangs open ever so slightly in an expression of disbelief. She slouches over slightly. Her mind runs wild.

_What is this place? Did she live here? Was this place important? Why did she write this address? Has Dad been here? Does he know about this place? Is it abandoned? What's inside?_

_Is she here?_

Yang looks from the frame of the doorway into the pure blackness of the interior, disguised from the outside world. She struggles to will her limbs to move, rooted to the spot, though she is desperate to look inside. As she does her best to crane her neck forward for any sort of clues, she hears it.

A low growling fades into existence, seemingly from the direction of the opening. The growling is slow and amplifies gradually, but not uniformly - signifying multiple sources. Heavy breathing begins to accompany the growls, and they begin to increase and decrease in intensity, like ominous waves before a tsunami.

Then she sees red.

The faint glow of red orbs fades into view through the darkness - in the doorway, in the windows, even in the shattered walls. The orbs are soulless and without pupils but she knows the eyes of the creatures of Grimm when she sees them.

And she knows that they sense her.

Gnashing teeth and slobbering maws join the cacophony and hints of shadowed white masks can be seen shifting around in the darkness, red eyes moving with them.

_Stupid._

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Now paralyzed by fear in addition to her exhaustion, Yang can't even spare the energy to look back at her sister - her perfect, innocent baby sister who was determined to be like the heroes in the books. And maybe it's for the best. If she were to wake up at this moment she would undoubtedly stare back at Yang with confused silver eyes full of betrayal and hopelessness and panic, and Yang doesn't think she could handle such a sight.

_This is my fault._

_I did this._

Her face contorts in a look of horror. She wants to cry out. She wants to cry. But her voice, like the rest of her, is broken and frozen in place. All she can do is watch and wait as giant, white-clawed paws reach out into the dirt of the entryway to support the forward movement of a tall, black body of mangled fur.

The Beowolf seems to savour the moment - the peak of its prey's fear and despair - as it draws itself up on its muscular hind legs. The bone-white mask of its face glistens in a sliver of moonlight that snakes through the cloud cover, and it lets out a disgusting, low howl.

Yang just listens, eyes wide.

The others, still lurking in the shadows, join in as they slink forward, and suddenly the chilly night air is filled with the howls of Beowolves.

Yang just watches, ears ringing.

The leading monster pulls back on its hind legs and readies itself for a fresh kill.

Yang just stands there, her body having given up and her spirit not far behind.

_I'm sorry, Mom_.

The Beowolf launches itself at her, rapidly closing the twenty-foot gap, left arm out to the side and ready to swipe through the tiny morsel before it.

In the slowest moment of her life, Yang feels the excited breath of the creature rushing down upon her face, rustling her tangled mane of hair. She smells a mixture of blood and decay. She hears the wind whistling through claws that are whipping around to shred her from the right.

And then, as the body of the beast closes in from above, she witnesses a huge, heavily stylized greatsword plunge into its breast with alarming speed, and a warm liquid splatters across her face. The force of the blade's impact drives the creature backwards a great distance, far through the doorway of the decrepit building.

A grey - no, maroon? - blur passes overtop of her as if pursuing the blade, into the shadows, with equally frightening speed. Yang struggles to process any of this in the few seconds she has but something in her gut tells her she knows that weapon, that blur.

There is a crash, a sickening crunch, the sound of a sword slicing through bodies, all accompanied by angry roars and growls. Three more Beowolves break away from the distraction inside the building and visibly prepare to launch themselves at the sisters. As they wind up and spring forward, the sounds of metal slicing through monster flesh increase in intensity and frequency and angry snarls are silenced.

In this silence everything seems to freeze. Three monstrous killers are in mid-air, lunging hungrily at a pigtailed young girl and her sleeping younger sister. Black fur and white masks and red eyes contrast against the sickly backdrop of an abandoned building in an autumn forest in dim moonlight.

The frozen image sears itself into Yang's mind.

She is still terrified but a part of her is fully willing to accept the consequences of her actions.

_Just don't take Ruby_.

As the moment begins to play itself out further she feels her right arm tense up, preparing to push the wagon back as far as she can before the Grimm are upon her.

She doesn't have to.

Once more the creature in front is only a few feet away, massive arms swinging around, when a horizontal flash of metal sweeps through its torso with a sickening snap. In her peripherals she can see that the two flanking Beowolves have also been sliced similarly. Their own momentum carries them forward, and as she begins to register time normally again, six cleanly-severed Beowolf halves fly past, crashing down into the dead leaves and dirt around the sisters. She watches as the one nearest her immediately begins to evaporate, fine black particles vanishing into nothingness. In seconds it is gone and the threat is neutralized.

A recognizable low, baritone voice with an edge like sandpaper cuts through the restored quiet of the forest.

"Hey, Sunshine."

Uncle Qrow stands before Yang, where the Beowolves had leapt at her only moments ago. He props himself up with the extended handle of his weapon, now a scythe as tall as he is. The silver of the blade glints in the moonlight, and while it is a triumphant pose it is diminished by the fact that he is hunched over slightly, clutching his left side, and breathing heavily.

A few moments pass as he catches his breath and straightens himself up once more, dusting off his two-tone grey button-up shirt. His expression is neutral as he looks into her eyes with his own dull reds, but the corner of his mouth twitches up as he breaks the silence again.

"That was quite a workout. Maybe next time you could lend me a hand?"

She doesn't know what to say, and finds herself only now beginning to process the sudden lack of imminent death. Her open mouth quakes and her whole body begins to shake and she falls to her knees, further aggravating her already cut and bruised shins. She can't bring herself to meet his eyes anymore, and instead stares at the ground at the space between them as her eyes burn with the need to cry, but are yet too shaken to do so.

Qrow lets the question linger for a moment too long before stepping forward, as if finally recognizing her state of shock. She sees his black shoes enter her immediate field of vision, followed by legs in slim black pants. She hears the mechanical whizzing of gears turning and a blade transforming and then he is kneeling in front of her, and a hand is on her right shoulder.

"I won't ask why you're out here," he says solemnly, without any hint of curiosity... did he know? "Let's just get you girls home."

She remembers nodding weakly, and then being hoisted onto his back and carried back towards the road. She remembers Ruby stirring uncomfortably, mumbling in distress, as if visited by nightmares of her own. She remembers feeling the low rumble of Qrow's voice as he comforts her back to a more peaceful sleep. She remembers the sharp smell of something vaguely grainy, and the feel of his smooth (if tattered) maroon cape on her face. She remembers seeing the glow of a lamppost again through half-lidded eyes.

And, in her dreams, she remembers the burning red eyes that signified her failure.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Phew. This one was in the works from the start, but following canon to the letter made this trickier than I first thought. Some information is still too vague, and I wanted to set things up more clearly, so I hope my interpretation of Yang's flashback/story is acceptable!
> 
> There will be at least one more chapter to this "Yang's Childhood" arc, and I'm still deciding what exactly to do after that. My goal is to expand on a few key Yang scenes throughout the Volumes - especially Volume 4 (surprise, surprise). But it may be a while before I get that far (unless we jump around a bit). There's also talk of Volume 5 Trailer(s) coming soon, so those may inform my decisions. Suggestions are welcome!
> 
> I hope that the length of this chapter will make up for what will likely be several weeks before another update. This has been a long-awaited, cathartic expenditure of creative energy but I need to focus on other things for the next little while. In the meantime, please hit me up with literally any feedback you can muster! Thanks to those who have already chimed in with reviews, etc. If that kind of engagement continues it might inspire me to get the next chapter out a bit sooner... whatever the case, thanks for reading. If you don't hear from me again by the end of July you have my permission to nag me with messages!
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> -kms


	5. The Colour of Failure (Part One)

(???)

* * *

**Blackness.**

Not just darkness.

Not just the absence of light.

Pure blackness. The kind of blackness that steals light. The kind that takes everything away. The kind that gives nothing in return.

And in the blackness...

Red.

Bright, burning crimson eyes glaring through the blackness from far in the distance.

The kind of red that screams of primal urges - hatred, fury, hunger, violence, lust. The kind that inspires fear. The kind that resembles fresh blood.

There, in the center of the infinite blackness, the eyes simply stare back, glowing in defiance of the surrounding void.

Gradually, they grow closer, unblinking. There is no hurry, and no sound, except that of a heartbeat.

The pulse accelerates and loudens, far more quickly than the eyes approach.

The eyes are closer now, but still far away.

The pulse peaks and strains to keep up with itself, becoming inconsistent and defeaning as the flight response kicks in.

The eyes are still approaching, patiently, as if savouring the pulse's panic.

The pulse, growing exhausted, forces itself to work harder. Each paired beat shakes in the blackness with a tight pain.

The eyes begin to dominate the scene, unwavering - just growing.

The pulse squeezes itself faster and harder, each time causing the scene to flicker as the pain of the rhythm becomes difficult to ignore. It knows flight is not an option, but it has to try.

As the eyes overwhelm the blackness, the heartbeat begins to falter in its desperation, and knots of pain give way to a tingling deadness - that of a limb that has fallen asleep.

The source of the heartbeat, in all its primal panic, attempts to reach out and push the eyes away, but they are close now - too close to avoid. And where two wings should be shielding a tired heart from certain doom, one of them remains inactive, aloof to the needs of its body. It is dead weight.

A sense of overwhelming failure - to fly, to fight, to  _protect_  - constricts the heartbeat into near-submission. It fights with the last of its energy, but knows it will not survive...

* * *

**Redness.**

And in the blinding redness, a rapid crescendo of sounds taken out of time, so deafening together as to overpower all other senses:

The gnashing of teeth. The snarling of a beast. The fluttering of frenzied wings. The slicing of a blade. The splattering of blood. The dissipation of living shadows.

The whirl of rose petals. The rustling of underbrush. The stamping of enormous paws charging ahead. The swiping of massive claws. The pitiful whacking of fists against dense bone. The snapping of branches under duress from a body smacked aside. The roar of a creature ready to snack on a sibling.

The whoosh of a caped figure rushing forward. The screech of a giant bird. The whistling of razor-sharp feathers as they rain from above. The clattering of armored arachnid legs approaching prey.

The wild shouting match between two unwitting enemies. The stunned silence following an unintentional revelation. The frenzied footfalls of a new companion fading into the distance. The low rumble of faraway explosions. The warbling of police sirens.

The honking of horns on a city freeway. The clashing of vehicles shoved aside by a deadly machine of war. The startled cry of allies being thrown from the scene. The weighty crumbling of concrete after a crushing blow. The shattering of illusory glass. The whine of a racing airship.

The dispersion of firepower around a simple parasol. The jarring smack of a boot against a clenched jaw. The evasive twirling of a silent enemy. The clang of skull on metal. The calamitous collapse of city infrastructure in a subterranean explosion.

The childish insults of a surprising foe. The effortless gliding of wheels riding circles around a target. The spinning and pummeling of blunt weapons on exposed limbs. The distant squealing of trumpets. The sudden burst of a fiery geyser. The damning buzzer of a tournament scoreboard. The choked coughing of a weakened teammate.

The stretching of leather. The sliding and clanking of fine machinery. The cheering of thousands of onlookers. The taunting of a rival. The explosive crack of a gun. The fracturing of bone. The horrified heckling of a crowd.

The terrified screams of innocents running for their lives. The distant wailing of emergency signals. The squelch of sharpened metal entering flesh. The agonized scream of a friend. The desperate whisper of a wounded partner. The burst of flame and raging bellow of a desperate failure of a girl. The clean slice of a honed edge through an entire limb.

The somber silence of a tragedy-stricken home. The pleading of a father. The final hoarse sobs of a young woman giving into defeat.

The hiss of an aerosol can. The thrumming of a motorcycle engine. The crashing of waves against the hull of a ship...

* * *

**Blackness.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> "Back to the fairy tale, back to the show..."
> 
> Volume 5 has begun and my hesitation to finish the drafts I've been sitting on is fading away in the face of HYPE! It was really difficult waiting for the Character Shorts, and especially difficult when Yang's was put off until the premiere... would her flashback conflict with what I've already written, or am about to write?!? Thankfully, no, and if anything, it just adds fuel to the fire!
> 
> So thanks for your patience over the last three months - I think I can pump out a few more in the next month or two, and if I'm reading into things right it will all still make sense with the show. This first part is short, yes, but consider it a "welcome back" and a teaser for a longer second part to come within the week. From here on out there's a lot of ground to cover and there's even more to theorize about as more episodes come out, so let's cross our fingers and hope for some Yangtastic development!
> 
> Cheers,  
> -kms


	6. The Colour of Failure (Part Two)

(present day)

* * *

**Blackness.**

Yang's head hurts. Her eyes strain themselves open but she can't see. She feels unusually warm and is sweating profusely.

She thinks her ears might be ringing. But the ringing gives way to a muffled thumping: a small but steady beat with a tinny melodic voice oo-ing overtop. She supposes it is relatively quiet, but it still shatters the darkness like glass.

She turns slightly, still lying down, and reaches out with her right arm, attempting to silence what she now recognizes as her scroll's alarm function. There is a clang of metal on metal and she feels her shoulder jerk back, surprised by the apparent resistance. She pauses.

_Right..._

She feels her mouth twitch, the hint of a grim smirk passing its way across her face in the darkness.

She resumes the motion more carefully and doesn't feel, so much as hear, herself sifting through the pockets of her leather jacket. In her bicep she thinks she can feel the subtle resistance of some sort of object in contact with her hand, and maybe she can even feel the slightest rhythmic vibrations of the music. She tenses her muscles in just the right way and can vaguely feel the added weight of an object, which she confirms as the music becomes less muffled and the dull glow of her scroll's alarm screen can be seen reflecting off a simple metal table further away.

She brings her right arm back towards her body and lies flat on her back once more as she swaps her scroll into her left hand, thumbing the off button on the transparent touchscreen. She raises the device over her head and stares straight up at the screen briefly - "Local Signal Only", she reads for the hundredth time. Her eyes flit briefly to the background image of the home screen and a fresh wave of nostalgia sweeps over her. Four faces are crammed together in an impromptu headlock, featuring a variety of expressions ranging from surprise to annoyance to confusion to pure glee.

Her gut clenches as anxiety and heartache taint the nostalgia.

_Not now. I have places to be..._

Looking away into the darkness, she places her phone down next to her and rests her right hand on her belly, feeling the cold metal of her prosthetic against her warm skin (she still shivers slightly on contact). The thumb rests at the cusp of her orange tank top, which is partially bunched up several inches above its usual cutoff just above her navel. The added weight presses the damp cloth against her skin even more, reminding her of her sweat-soaked clothes and bedsheets.

_...like the shower._

* * *

There is a fine line between frigid and scalding on the temperature dial in the shower. Yang opts for frigid, even though the hot wouldn't bother her as much as it might someone else.

She massages the water through her thick yellow hair and lets the simultaneously relieving and jarring cold soak the nightmares from her body, but not without further review.

Something about this latest experience itches in the back of her mind. She cannot place it, but something is different. Not entirely out of place, but... there was something there that wasn't there before. Or maybe... not for a long time, anyways.

She has long since lathered and rinsed but deigns to linger in the soothing stream of water, despite the chill grasping at her bones.

She strains to remember the sounds, the aural onslaught that was like her life flashing before her eyes - or ears, in this case.

_Alright, from the top..._

She makes a point of deliberately working through each one, trying to place its source and its purpose. At first it is easy; she is certain she remembers her childhood encounter with the Grimm too vividly to miss any detail. As she replays Qrow's rescue in her mind, she chides herself for the thousandth time:  _Stupid._

After forcefully blinking away the picture-perfect memory of the Beowolves leaping at her, she sifts through the memory of her failed sparring session with Ruby, just weeks before Ruby would coincidentally join her on the airship to Beacon. She had never encountered anything worse than a wandering Creep near that clearing, and yet, there it was - a monstrous Ursa, stomping out of the underbrush near where Ruby had vanished. In the end it nearly gored Yang and almost made a snack of her sister, but her Semblance flared up just in time. The bruising healed in no time but the fear they had both experienced would linger.  _We should have swept the area more thoroughly..._ In her eagerness to toughen up Ruby (and perhaps practice a few flashy moves of her own), Yang had surprised her by launching right into their sparring match as soon as they reached the clearing. _Stupid._

Moving on, she revisits her new team's first encounter with the ancient Grimm of the Emerald Forest. She had let Ruby rush headlong into danger before she had even realized the double threat of the Deathstalker and the Nevermore, and she had been too slow to react.  _If Weiss hadn't stepped in..._ She shudders at the memory of the early version of her teammate, who had had to save Ruby while Yang - Ruby's own sister - remained frozen in place.  _Stupid._

Then, the eventful weekend that ended with the incident at the docks. Ruby had been in harm’s way once again, and this time had actually taken a big hit from Roman Torchwick. And instead of being there to protect her, Yang was searching aimlessly for her own partner with a hostile Weiss. _Stupid._ So much about that weekend haunted her despite the relatively peaceful resolution – how she failed to mediate the tension between her own teammates, how she had not been there to help at the docks, how she had let her partner run away, alone, into the night…

Yang pauses when she realizes she is shivering slightly, though the water temperature has not changed.

Next, there was the night of Team RWBY (and company)'s three-way investigation in Vale. While turning up nothing in Junior's club, her sister had nearly been hit by a truck, and her partner had tagged along with Sun (whom she knew very little about save for his... prominent abdominals, monkey tail, and goofy, roguish tendencies) to go to a secret terrorist recruitment meeting which had nearly ended with a warehouse shootout.

Instead, the evening had evolved into a dangerous chase involving dozens of innocent motorists as a stolen Atlesian prototype mech-suit asserted dominance on one of the city's major freeways. Their self-imposed tag-along allies were swatted away like flies as the encounter transitioned to the concrete lots below, and only after experiencing new levels of blunt trauma (which left her sore and bruised for weeks, even with her Aura) was Yang able to accomplish anything. Even then, the evening still ended in the destruction of critical freeway support structures and a frustratingly smooth villainous getaway at the hands of a tiny girl with a parasol. There was so much about that evening that could have gone so different, so much better, yet Yang had swallowed her concerns in the planning process in hopes of exuding the confidence she knew they all needed to feel.  _Stupid._

Then there was that same girl on the train.

Yang feels the cold dissipate from the depths of her muscles as the memory of her first defeat in a real fight ignites her Aura ever so slightly.

Those taunting, mismatched, ever-changing eyes were as infuriating to her as her own failure to land a reasonable hit. Sure, she had barely slept after a full day of hunting Grimm, and then she had fought her way through some White Fang goons to save Ruby, who had somehow slipped away...

_On my watch._

But her opponent didn't even break a sweat. She knew now that she had only survived that encounter thanks to a chance intervention from... Raven. She had wondered for a long time how that could have taken place, but knew she would not find an answer until she could ask her in person. Instead, she now wondered how their experience with the train could have gone better had she not lost against (or chosen to fight in the first place) the silent girl. Her insistence on taking her alone was admittedly a pretty selfish move, and it had nearly cost her her life.

_What if Raven hadn't been there? Would parasol-girl… Neo? have gone after... the others?_

_What if I had kept my cool, and found another way around that encounter? Could we have taken her, as a team? Could we have stopped the train?_

Save for tremendous property damage and a lot of frightened (and only a few injured) civilians, the explosion and resulting battle with the Grimm hadn't been nearly as cataclysmic as one might expect - it was almost anticlimactic, in a way. Still, it was a major security breach and safety incident that left a mark on reputations and hearts within the kingdom of Vale. And criminals though they may be, Yang had to admit that it was unlikely every White Fang member on the train had survived... but of course, that wasn't something that had come up in public discourse.

Even when Team RWBY returned to Mountain Glenn to investigate Merlot Industries, Yang hadn't exercised nearly enough caution - she had been partially responsible for the building's collapse and their tumble back into the caverns, where they had nearly met their end numerous times at the hands of exploding green Creeps and a Dust bomb. Later, they had only barely managed to survive the hordes of captured Grimm and mutant Deathstalker in Dr. Merlot's island laboratory before he initiated the self-destruct sequence. The perilous adventure was exciting, sure - in the heat of the moment it was exactly the sort of adrenaline rush Yang practically lived for. Eventually, the scope of the danger they had faced might have frightened her if not for the anticipation of the approaching Vytal Festival Tournament.

Looking back now, though, Yang feels a slight wave of nausea rush through her as she thinks of how not once, but twice, her younger sister had been put through missions far beyond what her age and experience level should have allowed.

_I didn't even think about the danger we were in... the danger Ruby was in._

Several weeks later, in the semifinals of the tournament, she and Weiss had nearly been obliterated by their surprisingly... surprising opponents. Something about Flynt's arrogant (if justifiable) jabs and Neon's incessant mockery infuriated Yang to her core - not just on a personal level, but in principle. Weiss still wasn't her favourite person on Remnant, but no one talked to her team - her friends - like that. And for an aspiring young huntress, Neon seemed to be missing the point. Yang was never big on protocol or formality but when it came to the basic human decency that she ascribed to their would-be profession, she was not about to let the rollerskating rainbow girl get away with that behaviour.

_But they turned my blind rage against me._

She had disregarded strategy and defense in a desperate attempt to just get in a single damning punch on Neon, and Neon's speed nearly won Team FNKI the match, even after Weiss' shocking and dangerous sacrifice. As much as she wanted to believe she had strategically smashed up the center of the stadium, Yang knew it had been dumb luck that her furious firepower had knocked Neon off balance and into the geyser field.  _Dad was right..._ If it had been a real fight, Weiss would be dead and she would likely have been taken out too.  _Stupid._

Then she remembers the incident and resulting backlash that had very much been a part of public discourse - the tournament finals, broadcast throughout Remnant. Somehow she had lost herself in the heat of the moment and (supposedly) seriously injured the "socially awkward" Mercury Black, who had been deceiving them all from the very start. She had known something was off about him and Emerald, the way they were almost too comfortable, too chummy, too smug - and he was definitely more arrogant than awkward. It was like they knew something no one else did. It was now quite apparent that they had been plotting a great deal from their arrival, and Yang hated herself for not seeing more of the signs.  _Stupid._  And while the world would forever remember her as the punch-happy rival-assaulter, she would consider it a reminder of her failure to see through their lies.

The cold water is steaming against her skin and she forces herself to take deep breaths.

_Move onward._ _Not there yet._

The night of absolute terror that echoed across all of Vale is the next stop on her deliberate revisitation of her dream. Hours after Team RWBY's disqualification, Pyrrha accidentally fatally maimed the innocent... android? Penny. Then all hell broke loose. The White Fang, Grimm, rogue Atlas robots... everything happened all at once, not long after deliberately separating herself from her team. Ruby was at the coliseum. The others had gone for drinks after a tense and emotional day of investigations and interrogations. Yang had stayed behind to mope. And then in the time it took for her to catch up with Weiss, the poor girl (who had proven herself a trustworthy teammate and treasured companion) had already exhausted herself fighting off waves of Atlas tech, and Ruby had disappeared, and...

Yang’s vision is suddenly blinded by redness again, and her eyes snap open, refusing to acknowledge the ache in her right arm - or at least, where it should be. How long had she had her eyes closed? She notices her body shivering again, more violently, teeth chattering slightly. How long had she been in the shower? She feels the fingers of her left hand pruning slightly, and suddenly feels compelled to leave the freezing downpour in the corner of the barely-person-sized cubicle in her tiny interior cabin. She pushes away a familiar sense of disappointment at her own lack of willpower.

_Not now._

Too many times she found herself seeing red. If it wasn't the eyes of her own foolish rage it was the eyes of a cold and uncaring mother, or the haunting, hungry eyes of the Grimm, or the sharp outline of a cruel attacker whose eyes sized her up like prey from behind a ghostly white mask.

_That was before._

Each time she failed in the sight of red, she knew it could have been her last.

_Not anymore._

She silently repeats these words to herself dozens of times as she towels off clumsily in the cramped space, still shivering, and dresses for a walk above deck, where she plans to rely on the wind to dry the deeper recesses of her mane.

After some hesitation, she returns her prosthetic to the metal joining plate below her bicep - an eerily simple process now, even if she still has to fight a wave of nausea as the parts lock together - and leaves the darkness of her cabin.

* * *

The sweet and salty ocean breeze, the vast swathes of open sea and sky, and the gentle rocking of the _Pride_ were, at first, a little bit unsettling. Terrifying? Definitely nauseating.

When the ship first left Vale, Yang was excited. She was back in action and she was not going to sit around moping any longer (or so she told herself). Something about home had started to feel stale and unwelcoming, and she had begun to feel intensely guilty for having remained stationary for so long. And of course, it was her passion in life to seek out adventure, so what was she doing lying in bed all day when a world full of excitement and danger beckoned? A world that had beckoned her sister from her protection, and threatened to take her forever.

For a while, any thought of losing Ruby wracked Yang's body with sickening tremors that effortlessly shook tears from her eyes. Out in the open she forcibly remained calm and unfazed, keeping those tears hidden with a subtle, gloved gesture or a careful readjustment of her hair. But in the privacy of her room at home, or even during the occasional relapse in her (luckily) private cabin on the ship, she could not contain the warm liquid that flowed freely from her sockets, even as her throat grew sore from choking back screams and sobs.

Now, though her fear for her sister remains very real, she knows that she accomplishes nothing in her misery. Instead, as she grows accustomed to the movement of the ship, she has to ask herself...

_What am I doing?_ _Where am I going?_

She had an answer. She had made up her mind. Dad wasn’t going to stop her. She was on her way to Anima. But she feels herself losing certainty as to what she plans to do when she reaches the eastern continent.

There is one other question she does not ask, one that is all too familiar but far more painful than ever, and though it tries to burn a whole through the back of her mind, she refuses to deliberate any longer lest she lose her resolve entirely.

_No use living in the past. We’ll just take it day by day._

She forces herself to smile a bit, and squints towards the rising sun lingering just above the horizon, sending bright ripples of light across the gentle waves. A thought occurs to her, and her smile widens considerably.

“Don't worry, we'll  _sea_ each other soon!” she proclaims cheekily to the soft hues of the sky above the water. She adds a wave for good measure.

She continues the gesture for several seconds, quite pleased with herself, until she realizes… she is waving with her right hand.

Her smile diminishes, though only slightly, and she continues the gesture, watching the black and yellow of her new fingers glinting in the sunlight. She is keenly aware that she might appear a little schizophrenic to any onlookers, but maintains her focus on the limb. She hadn’t consciously decided to wave with her right; it had always been her favored hand until… recently. That it was becoming a natural part of her movement again was relieving, but underneath her thoughtful smile she can’t help but feel uneasy. Nauseated, even. _Just when I thought I was getting my sea legs._

She finishes her wave and leans on the guard rail with both arms once more. Her smile turns into a wry smirk as she feels the weight of her muzzled thoughts threatening to crush her spirits again, but she breathes deeply and focuses on the here and now.

_I’m going to be alright._

She snorts softly in acknowledgement of her wordplay, but her expression darkens. Leather creaks as her gloved grip tightens on the guard rail. The edges of her vision tinge red ever so slightly, pulsing with her heartbeat.

She closes her eyes and breathes out a long sigh.

_I’ll have to be._

* * *

Despite her resolve to keep moving forward, Yang’s journey is plagued with boredom and a restless mind, which proves challenging.

She spends as much time as she can physically bear in the _Pride_ ’s tiny gym, tuning out the stares of other passengers, and eats only what she can physically bear of the ship’s bland meals to fuel her workouts. Even though she keeps her distance from others, she still finds herself being eyed suspiciously by the occasional individual or small group.

She walks the length of the ship repeatedly, memorizing the layout with ease, and occasionally casually sneaks into corridors clearly marked “CREW ONLY” to explore more of the vessel’s inner workings, only to feign ignorance when asked to leave by the (admittedly polite, and surprisingly good-looking) crew going about their business.

Eventually she has a run-in with the captain, a white-bearded man with a solid build and a gritty voice not unlike her default pirate voice she would attempt when she still read stories to Ruby. He had caught wind of her exploits, and calmly but sternly warns her that she would have to be detained if caught sneaking around again – something about safety and security policies. Still, he smiles warmly as he begins to dismiss her, commenting that he admires her “adventurer’s spirit” and can tell from experience that she must be a skilled huntress.

“I know it’s a taxing line of work. Lonely, too, especially when travelling by sea. I can certainly understand the restlessness. Why, the last huntress we had on board – might have been about your age, now that I think of it – was downright paranoid. Quite skilled, as we thankfully found out, but paranoid,” he says with a sympathetic frown. Yang, quiet and smiling politely until now, also frowns. “Can’t blame her, though. I imagine I’d be pretty on edge too, with ears like tha-“

“Captain! We need you on the bridge!” A clear, slightly feminine voice calls down the interior hallway where Yang had been found by the captain examining the floor plan on the wall. Out of the corner of her eye she thinks she sees a young woman (though she’s not entirely sure) peeking around the corner with a determined look on their face – but Yang’s focus is lost as her mind starts spinning. She feels her pulse pound harder and the edges of her vision blur with red.

“Thank you, first mate,” the captain nods pointedly at them before turning back to Yang apologetically. “There I go again, sputtering on about past adventures when you have your own to worry about!” He chuckles, adjusts his cap and turns to leave, winking in her direction as he strides purposefully down the corridor. “Don’t be a stranger – but heed the signs!”

_A skilled huntress…_

Yang is speechless, rooted to the spot. She wants to call out, to stop the captain, to clarify, but he blurs away in the distance of her unfocused gaze and disappears around the corner.

_My age…_

Yang was proud of her womanly figure; at first glance she could pass for a fully grown adult (which, of course, she pretty much was at this point). But he could have meant anyone far older than her.

_Paranoid… ears…_

The shaking has started again, and she realizes her fists are clenched. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, she takes a deep breath to steady herself, and finds the nearest exit from the crew corridor, pushing the heavy steel door open and stepping onto the main outer deck. Looking around, she sees dozens of people walking around, leaning on the guard rail, sunning themselves in deck chairs, enjoying cold drinks… and a good number of them are Faunus. Animalistic ears, tails, scales, eyes, teeth, claws, paws, skin, fur, antlers, horns – she thinks she might have even seen a beak when the ship was boarding in Vale.

A cold wave of disappointment starts to creep into her veins but it is rapidly replaced by indignation.

_Don’t be stupid. It could have been anybody._

She vehemently convinces herself that it is nothing worth pursuing, but she still trembles slightly. Leaning back on the guard rail once more she begins sifting through her long yellow locks, an old nervous tick that nonetheless eases her body’s anxiety.

Yang’s run-in with the captain, while unexpectedly pleasant, had only further fanned the fires of her curiosity. Unfortunately, with nowhere left to legally explore on the ship, this insatiable sensation only turns inwards.

* * *

For the rest of the voyage, the only thing that truly distracts Yang from the vortex of thoughts and emotions threatening to break through her wall of willpower is her time working out on the ship, which she tries to do as much as possible. Her success is limited, though, as she knows she needs to be careful not to overexert herself with her new limb (which does not help the mental struggle), and she has only recently started to feel fit again – not as fit as during the Vytal Festival Tournament, but coming closer to it each day. And even when she fits in several hours in a day, the end of her sessions sometimes devolve into tense, desperate, and occasionally enraged sparring matches with the increasingly battered punching bag. If people hadn't been giving her odd looks before, they certainly would then - usually with a trace of fear or disdain.

The monotony of it all is thoroughly maddening, and Yang feels her newly-reformed willpower fading fast. With so many other people on the ship it occurs to her that it might not be hard to make a few new friends to help pass the time, but the short, necessary interactions she has at mealtimes or in the gym or when an older man drops his thick reading glasses next to her (which she cheerfully returns to him, of course) all take a tremendous amount of energy that she feels she no longer has, especially when half the time people seem eager to get out of her way. Actually starting up a conversation, wading through the small talk, trying to connect with someone, only to have to say goodbye days later, probably forever… the idea alone is exhausting. And if at any point in that process someone were to recognize her as the disgraced Beacon huntress-in-training from the disastrous Vytal Festival Tournament, surely it would only serve to draw more unnecessary negative attention to her. It is unfair, but she knows there's no point trying to convince anyone of what she feels - what she knows - really happened. Even seeking another chat with the captain seems treacherous at this point, even if they were to cross paths in the public areas of the ship.

So, she remains uncharacteristically antisocial from that point on. As the  _Pride_ nears its destination in Anima, Yang trades most of her time at the gym for time in the vehicle storage hangar, polishing and tinkering with Bumblebee.  _We might have a long ride ahead of us..._

The decrease in physical exertion allows her mind to wander more freely, which ultimately mellows her even more. She feels more confident with her hands and her body, and while the nightmares have decreased in intensity, they linger, like an ominous shadow, far too often in the forefront of her mind. She continues her process of working through each dream segment, each painful memory, but she frequently comes upon the same roadblocks - the same impassible moments that cause her to seize up and threaten to overwhelm her senses.

Finally, on the eve before their arrival, the anticipation of the next phase of her journey has bolstered her mood and energy significantly. Although anxious, Yang pre-emptively calls to mind the worst of her mistakes and the most debilitating memories.

_Maybe I can beat my own dreams to the punch... heh._

Freshly exhausted from a much more motivated final workout, she lies face up on her cot with her arms behind her head. Even lying down she can feel the waves gently rocking the ship slightly more than usual, and it eases her into a meditative state. Focusing on a single point in the ceiling, she takes deep, measured breaths until her breathing is remarkably steady.

And once more, she remembers the redness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Oh man it feels good to be writing again. So good that, while this exhausts most of my tangible drafts, another chapter may not be far off... On the other hand, perhaps I should have broken this up into three parts? Apologies for the pacing.
> 
> Based on the walking pace of RNJR and the vague time lapse (6-8 months) from V3-V4, I estimated that the boat ride from Sanus (presumably Vale?) to Mistral (presumably the port closest to Mistral proper?) would probably have taken AT LEAST a week at a non-sea-dragon-Grimm-killing pace. Really curious how this extrapolation of Yang's V4-V5 journey will line up with the official story being told week by week...
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated! More to come.
> 
> Cheers,  
> -kms


	7. Awakening

(after the search)

* * *

A distant shout – familiar, masculine, angry – stirs Yang from her slumber.

A distorted red colour is all she can see at first, and her eyes feel surprisingly warm. After a brief moment of confusion, she realizes her eyes are still closed, and opens them – and then squeezes them tight immediately after staring straight into a blinding ray of sunlight shining in through the window.

Judging by the amount of light in the room, she’s definitely slept in. A sudden frenzy of frustration and concern ( _Is Ruby awake? Has she eaten yet?_ ) has her bolting upright and twisting manically towards Ruby’s bed. The motion aggravates her limbs unexpectedly, but Yang ignores the pain as she looks across the gap between beds.

Sure enough, Ruby is still sleeping soundly, bundled up snugly…

…in her red hood.

And then she remembers last night’s journey.

As if annoyed at Yang’s refusal to acknowledge it, her body seems to flare up all over with stiff, stinging pain and soreness. She cringes, involuntarily clenching her teeth and arching her back as she eases into a more comfortable position. Lying upright, she registers the sting of numerous cuts and bruises all over her limbs, and a few on her face and torso. Her breaths are shallow and strained as she remembers how each wound found its place.

She remains that way for a few minutes in the sunlight, letting it warm her and calm her breathing, until she hears another shout – familiar, masculine… desperate? – from downstairs.

A murmur reaches her ears from across the room, and she turns more gingerly to find Ruby stirring groggily. Yang freezes, afraid that she might not have time to change into something that might conceal her injuries before her sister notices, but also worried she might miss the opportunity to investigate the disturbance.

After a squeaky yawn and multiple limb stretches, Ruby rolls back into a comfortable ball of red fabric and remains still and silent.

Yang releases a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, and carefully removes herself from the covers of her own bed. She is surprised to find she’s been changed into her loosest-fitting pyjamas – a matching white cotton shirt and pants speckled with simple flower petals in pastel yellows, oranges, and purples. She also notes that her worst cuts have been bandaged somewhat haphazardly. Thankfully, as it turns out, most of the damage is already hidden by her pyjamas.

She pads over to the doorway, which is open unusually wide, and then down the hall to the stairs, which she manages quietly but not without a slight limp. She slides her feet down one step at a time, until she can almost make out part of the living room. Some furniture is slightly askew but otherwise, everything seems normal, and oddly calm-

“You know what I think, Tai?” a sandpapery voice intones – from the kitchen? – with equal parts somberness and impatience.

_Uncle Qrow?_ Yang does her best to root herself to the step and meld into the wall.

Qrow was there. He saved them. He took them home…

“I don’t care what you think,” Tai’s familiar, quintessentially Dad voice shoots back, but what at first sounds like spite dwindles into a palpable sense of defeat.

“That’s the problem; you don’t seem to care about anything anymore! You left your kids alone in a house in the woods in the middle of the night – not for the first time, by the look of it – and look what almost happened!” Qrow flies through his words with unusual ferocity.

“You don’t-“

“I don’t what, Tai? You think I don’t understand? You think this doesn’t affect me, too? You think this doesn’t matter to me?” A pause and a ragged breath precede a shift in tone to something that Yang can’t quite place. “This is my family, too, Tai. Like it or not, _we_ are family. You know I can’t stay, but don’t think for a second that if I could…” Another ragged breath, and then softer, and higher. “If I could…”

A sigh, and then a quiet pop, and then the sound of liquid sloshing around, and Yang knows – he’s drinking from that silver flask of his again.

In the relative silence that follows, she realizes her heart is racing. Moisture has gathered in the corner of her eyes, and her stomach is even more sore than it was when she woke up. Something about what she just heard has her holding back tears.

_Why can’t he stay? Why does he have to leave, too?_

Before she can process it any further, Qrow loudly clears his throat and continues, but softer this time. Yang has to take another few steps down to make out the words.

“Tai, I think you need to go back to Signal.”

Silence, then a note of surprise. “What?”

“I think you need to get back into a routine. A _healthy_ routine. No more of…” – the sound of liquid swirling in the bottom of a bottle – “…this. I know, I know, but seriously. Besides, ol’ Dougie always seems to need all the help he can get at that school.”

“But…”

“Seriously, Tai. You can’t keep going like this; they need you. If you can’t pull yourself together for your own sake, do it for theirs. That’s part of being a Hunstman. You know that.”

Yang hears the shuffling of a chair as someone stands up, slowly.

“I know, Qrow,” Taiyang murmurs, so soft that Yang finds herself stepping almost down to the living room floor to hear. “I… Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

Qrow’s voice seems to amplify as it comes alive with that familiar cynical spark once more. “Good. You know, Oz would always say-“

“Don’t.”

An uncharacteristic venom drips off of Tai’s interjection. Yang almost stumbles backwards, as if instinctually backing away from a caged animal. Several seconds of thick silence go by.

“Fine.” Another chair slides around and into Yang’s field of vision into the kitchen as Qrow presumably stands as well. “Well, I think I can afford to crash for a few days. I’ll take the couch, if you don’t mind.” If there was to be any playfulness to Qrow’s words it is overshadowed by his own, more familiar brand of venom.

The sight of Qrow’s tattered Hunstman outfit enters Yang’s vision as he turns to leave the kitchen. Panicked, she quickly tries to appear as if she had just woken up – which is difficult considering her heart rate and jumbled thoughts. Channeling her sister’s usual morning grogginess, she manages to force a deep yawn. She steps off the last step, just as Qrow enters the living room, immediately sighting her frazzled yellow mane in the intrusive sunlight.

“Well, well, well. It’s about time you woke up, Sunshine.”

“Yang?” Concern smothers whatever venom had been lingering in the air, and Taiyang shoves his way past Qrow and drops to his knees to embrace her with gusto. She is about to cringe when he seems to realize his mistake, relaxing his grip significantly. He pulls back to look at her, and she is sure she’s in for a stern lecture about jeopardizing Ruby’s safety, or going out after dark, or not communicating her intentions, or-

“Yang, sweetie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out as fresh tears spill from his eyes. The precipitation draws Yang’s attention, not to the dazzling blue of his irises, but the angry redness of his sockets. “I shouldn’t have left, I should have… I should have…” He trails off into whimpering sobs as he loses the words to express his regret. Yang feels her own tears break free from their previous restraints and reaches around her father’s neck, clinging to him out of heartbreak… and terror.

The raw emotion on display was frightening her – her own father shouldn’t have to feel this upset, and yet here he was. He had briefly lashed out at Qrow in uncharacteristic fury, and now was on the floor in front of her, practically shattered beyond words. She doesn’t want to see him this way, and grips tighter in hopes that she can hold on to whatever familiar part of him is left. She starts shaking as her own anguish catches up with her, and an increasingly familiar thought materializes in the midst of it all.

_I did this. This is my fault._

Taiyang gasps briefly as Yang throws all her energy into her miniature bear hug. He hugs her tighter in return, and only after once more registering Qrow’s presence in her peripherals does she dare to let go, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. He’s watching them both intently, with a sad smile on his face. Upon meeting her eyes, he looks away briefly to take one last swig from his flask. Then he looks back at her with a raised eyebrow and the ghost of a grin pulling at the corner of his thin, dry lips.

“It’s a good thing you left as clear a trail as you did. The extra weight in your wagon made it easy enough to follow your path through the fallen leaves,” he explains matter-of-factly, though Yang is taken aback.

_A trail?_ She had made no effort to leave a trail; if anything, at the time she had wanted to be left alone to complete her task, and was probably more afraid, at least at first, of getting caught in the act than… than what almost happened. But apparently in her recklessness she had not counted on the wagon marking their journey down the road – or did it?

Qrow winks at her in the few seconds it takes her to process his statement, and then it dawns on her. Trail or not, intentional or otherwise, Uncle Qrow is throwing her a lifeline.

Taiyang has pulled back once more, still sniffling slightly, and assists her in wiping away her tears, but she is stuck staring at her uncle with a mix of appreciation, shock, and horror. Deep down she can’t help but feel entirely undeserving of this lifeline – it was too much like praise, praise for something she knew was absurd and reckless and thoroughly dangerous, and not just for her.

As she fails to alter her perpetual frown, Qrow’s mischievous glance fades away and he moves to settle on the sofa. She does not follow him with her eyes, instead staring straight ahead into the kitchen where she had just heard her only living (or at least involved) older relatives shouting at each other.

“He’s right, Yang. You led him right to you,” offers Tai, still somewhat shakily.

_No I didn’t._

Noticing her unfazed stare, he continues: “I know you wanted answers. I haven’t been upfront with you enough, or around enough to… to be there for you. I don’t blame you for looking elsewhere for answers…”

_But you should._

“…and I think it was brave of you to take it upon yourself. Stupid, but brave…”

_Stupid._

“…and I want you to know that I don’t blame you for taking Ruby with you…”

_But you should!_

“…even though I wish you hadn’t. I wish you hadn’t gone in the first place. But… but you did, and I know that you did because… because of me.”

Yang has nothing to say to this. Her mind is blank now, and cannot even begin to think up a response that can convey her disappointment in herself and her heartbreak for causing her father this much pain. She still feels some anger towards him, but it takes a back seat to her newer distress.

“I’m sorry, Yang. I’m going to do better. For you. For Ruby.” Tai pauses briefly, tilting his head down in Qrow’s direction ever so slightly. “For our whole family.”

She wants to deflect his apology, to make him realize just how incorrect he is in his assignment of blame. She wants him to justify her own self-loathing with his own anger, but she knows he won’t. It would frustrate her even more if she weren’t already emotionally spent.

So she says the only thing she can say: “I’m sorry too, Daddy.”

_So, so sorry._

* * *

Whether by coincidence of circumstance or some strange luck, Qrow’s visit marks a significant turning point for the Xiao Long-Rose household dynamic.

Ruby never mentions anything about her unexpected journey into the forest, merely recalling a distant but potent nightmare that she hadn’t been able to wake up from until it had all but faded away. The revelation that her “favouritest” Uncle Qrow is here to visit completely obliterates whatever lingering unease she feels, and her excitement helps clear the air following that emotional morning.

Yang encounters no further shouting matches and never once overhears any other “grown up” conversations between Taiyang and Qrow during this time. While she occasionally wonders if her eavesdropping hadn’t gone unnoticed, it never comes up and eventually she lets go of her concern.

What is hard to miss, however, is her father’s dogged determination that rose from the ashes of his earlier meltdown. It is startling at first, because the very next day Yang awakes to a gentle hand on her shoulder and a familiar voice offering a greeting that seems like a distant memory.

“Good morning, my sunny little dragon. Breakfast is ready!”

It was an old favourite of Summer’s, and over time, Taiyang had adopted it as well – at least until she was gone.

But here it is again. It saddens her at first, but the significance in hearing it again immediately covers the sadness with newfound joy.

Breakfast is similarly uplifting, and so filling that they end up with leftovers – which Ruby vehemently declares she will be eating for lunch (and later, dinner).

When Taiyang kindly requests to have some time to take care of some decidedly important business, Qrow takes the brunt of the duty of entertaining the siblings – and it is in these many hours in the mornings and afternoons that things really start to feel normal again.

One particularly warm afternoon, Ruby and Yang are frolicking and flailing amidst the falling leaves – the final wave to break free from the trees surrounding the house. Qrow does his best to keep piling them up, but frequently ends up spouting an annoyed “Hey!” as they run and jump through his handiwork, before grumbling his way through the process one more time (albeit with an inevitable smile on his face).

At some point, Ruby spots one of their distant neighbours strolling down the road with a cartful of pumpkins in tow, and in a flash she is wrapped tightly around Qrow’s legs, staring up at him pleadingly. She doesn’t say anything but something dawns on him as he looks at her questioningly.

“Ah, that’s right. Halloween is almost here, isn’t it?” He observes, somewhat absently.

_Halloween…_

Yang freezes, halfway between the latest pile of leaves and her constricted uncle. A hint of horror seeps into her gut as she realizes.

_I almost forgot… is it really so soon?_

There hadn’t been a lot of active attentiveness to time and date in the last month or so, and in the process they had almost missed one of the most important days of the year (according a certain someone, anyhow).

Ruby responds with a strained whimper, as if to say: “Yes, annnd…?”

“What? You want a pumpkin or something?” Qrow asks with a teasing smile.

Ruby appears taken aback at first, but then registers the additional opportunity and nods vigorously. “Mhmm…?” she affirms, but still with a hint of: “Go ooon…?”

“Hm, what else could possibly be so important to this little pipsque- hey!” His exaggerated obliviousness is interrupted by his legs being squeezed together even tighter, so that he begins to lose his balance. After a few seconds of arm flailing, he topples over backwards into the remnants of an earlier pile, narrowly missing a discarded rake. Ruby remains wrapped around his legs, flailing her own but otherwise sustaining no injury.

The resulting laughter from all parties is followed by Yang’s own attempt at sounding coy: “Could it be… that it’s your birthday, Ruby?”

She beams at her wide-eyed baby sister as the latter nods her head almost inhumanly fast, seemingly vibrating at their uncle’s feet.

Qrow pushes himself up onto his elbows and smiles warmly. “Then I guess I should stick around a few more days. It’s not every day you get to have the whole family around and in costume for your birthday.”

After a lengthy squeal of excitement, Ruby finally decides to communicate in words again. “Mean it, mean it?!?”

“Sure, kid. I mean, it’d be hard to leave with you like this,” he responds, looking playfully at her. It takes a moment for her to connect the dots, but with a soft “oh,” she sheepishly lets go of his ankles and rises to her own feet.

“But you’re leaving again?”

As soon as the words leave Yang’s mouth she regrets it. Though thoroughly delighted by this whole interaction, she could no longer ignore the question in the back of her mind. Still, she silently chastises herself for stealing attention from Ruby’s excitement.

Qrow leans further up, resting one arm on a knee, but looks off into the distance. “As much as I would love to stay and clean up your mess all day…” he says, gesturing to the half dozen scattered piles of leaves surrounding them (although a part of Yang wonders if that’s all he means), “…I have to head out on another mission, and soon. A huntsman’s work is never done, after all.” He returns his gaze to the sisters, sharing a slim smile with them both.

Ruby’s eyes widen once more with awe, a look that Yang recognizes from the only instances in which she has ever had Ruby’s full and undivided attention – story time. “Hunsmin! Hunsmin! I wanna be a hunsmin for Halloweeeeen!”

Qrow chuckles, which is at once a grating and relaxing sound. “A huntsman, huh? I don’t see why not. Though I suppose in your case, some would call you a hunt _ress_.”

“Yeah, a huntress!” the younger sibling bounces up and down with glee before suddenly switching into bad-guy-fighting mode, and she starts running circles around them doing her best impersonations of various ranged weapons.

As usual, Ruby’s infectious delight has smothered Yang’s disappointment, but looking back at Qrow, the older sibling’s brightening mood dims once again. His eyes are locked on Ruby with a curious mixture of sadness and… admiration?

“A huntress from a family of huntsmen. Just like your mother…” From his gaze, and the way his voice trails away, Yang can’t quite tell what he means by that, or if he even means for her to hear it.

_Just like Summer…_

She turns away to watch Ruby excitedly “dodging” her way through what little remains of Qrow’s raking efforts. She slips a few times but determinedly rises with her characteristic speed to face each new “bad guy” head on.

_A huntress…_

The uneasy feeling she had been harboring in her gut subsides a bit, and she has a moment of clarity. Her frown lessens, and she feels a hint of that same determination that had led her out into the woods just a few nights ago.

_Just like my mother._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> I'm delighted to be able to share this much with you all this soon; there is a second part of sorts coming, but seeing as I was not able to complete it for my Halloween deadline, I rushed to get this much to a state of relative completeness. It hasn't been as thoroughly reviewed as some other chapters so please forgive any little oddities (but please inform me so I can fix it)!
> 
> Things are happening a lot quicker than I anticipated in V5, and so far that's been a pretty good thing! The ongoing hype is helping fuel my writing, so expect an update roughly every 2-3 weeks on average for the next few months. The theoretical part two to this chapter (thought differently titled due to enough difference in mood/content) should be out sooner though, so stay tuned!
> 
> Thanks for your kind words thus far. Please continue to let me know your thoughts; I try to choose my words and focal points and so on very carefully, so again, if something feels off to you I would be happy to hear about it!
> 
> Happy Halloween (and Happy Birthday, Ruby)!  
> -kms


	8. Huntsmen and Hoods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12/15/17 - It's been way too long! Thanks for your patience. Lots to say in the end notes, but for now, please enjoy!

(later that night)

* * *

“A huntress, huh?” repeats Taiyang thoughtfully, leaning back with his hands on his hips. His eyes drift upwards from Ruby’s gleeful gaze for a moment, but they close as his mouth twitches into a contented smile before adding, “Just like your old man!” He puffs out his chest, pointing at his sternum with his thumb.

“Like Unkie Qrow!” responds Ruby, swinging her feet with wild abandon from her chair at the kitchen table.

Taiyang visibly deflates, casting an annoyed look over her shoulder at Qrow – who raises his hands defensively and shrugs from the corner by the sink. “Hey, don’t blame me, it’s her choice,” he casually responds, “but I suppose it makes sense that the only _working_ huntsman around here would be the most inspiring.” He tilts his head to the side with a characteristic smirk. “Oh yeah, and don’t forget that your other kid has been filling her head with stories of all kinds of heroics since before she had a full set of teeth.”

Yang, who is sitting across from Ruby and continually trying to get her sister’s attention back to her vegetables whilst finishing her own dinner, turns to see Qrow still looking at her dad with his teasing smirk. If she understood correctly, she is pretty sure he is talking about her, and that he didn’t mean that last bit as a bad thing – but the doubt causes her to pause halfway through chewing her carrots.

Yang then watches Dad straighten up again as he visibly gathers his confidence. “I’m going into town tomorrow to take care of some business. It’s very important, but it’s also kind of a secret,” he announces hurriedly, before seeming to realize that he might yet be able to win back the adoration of his youngest and adds, “like a secret mission!”

To Yang’s dismay, Ruby had been about to take another hesitant bite of her own carrots (which were thoroughly mashed up at this point due to idle forkplay), but at mention of a secret mission drops her fork dangerously near the edge of the table in order to dramatically pound both fists down on it in incredulity.

“SECWET MISHIIIN?!” she screams, which seems a bit counterintuitive to Yang but is no less endearing to witness. Ruby immediately looks up at their dad as if seeing him clearly for the first time, and he revels in the shift in the limelight. Yang makes eye contact with Qrow briefly, sharing a knowing grin with eyebrows raised, before also turning her attention to Dad.

With his ego already boosted, he proudly declares, this time at a more measured pace, “That’s right, girls, your pops is gonna be busy on a secret mission tomorrow, in the town of Patch! But it might be dangerous, so you’ll have to stay here with your uncle while I’m gone.”

He almost sounds like he expects them both to complain or cry out in protest, but to his easily discernible chagrin, Yang and Ruby share a happy glance at each other, enthusiastically exclaiming “Okay!” in unison.

Qrow chuckles, and pushes off of the countertop to make his way over to the table. “I think they might need a little more convincing, Tai.” Yang clearly recognizes the… what was it? Sar-chasm? Sar-cat-stick? in his voice (Qrow hadn’t bothered to correct her pronunciation after he first explained it to her).

Desperate to keep his audience, Taiyang ignores Qrow’s comment and adds, “I’m going to need some help before I leave, though. This is _very important_!” He looks sternly at both of them, as if preparing to tell them the most secret-est part of his mission. The sisters watch his intense blue eyes with curiosity. “Ruby, you want to be a huntress on your birthday, right?”

Ruby nods emphatically, careful not to break eye contact.

“Good. That already helps me a great deal.”

Ruby grins with pride.

“Okay, Yang, I need your help now.”

Yang is a bit confused by his line of questioning but her suspicions and curiosity have her similarly fixated on his eyes. She nods slowly, offering a hesitant smile.

“I need to know… what you want to be for Halloween.”

She looks down pensively. Two seconds pass before she puts it all together. Confident that she now knows the nature of this secret mission, she looks back into his intense stare to deliver her answer, only to realize…

_I don’t know._

“What do you want to be, Yang?”

Her smile fades. Ruby was so sure of herself, so confident in her own ambitions already, but Yang…

“Uhmmm…”

_I don’t know what I want to be._

A mix of dread and panic creep into her stomach. Distressed by her inability to respond, her current bite of carrots is suddenly horribly unappetizing. She stares back at her father with growing fear, as his intense expression softens to confusion, with growing concern. The silence awkwardly persists as no one says anything, until-

“You wanna be hunchiss too, Yang?”

Yang looks over at Ruby, whose head is tilted well past a forty-five degree angle, and whose dangling feet can be implicitly seen swaying casually under the table thanks to the carefree side-to-side motion of her tiny upper body. The smile on her face is so relaxed and unassuming that Yang’s discomfort melts away almost instantly.

“Iss’okay! We can be a team!” adds Ruby, smiling more broadly and swinging more vigorously.

Yang can’t help but smile back. “Okay, sis. Let’s be huntresses.”

Deep down, what little remains of the doubt from earlier seems to coil up and hide from this resolution. It is not gone, but something about this decision intimidates it into submission for now.

Something about agreeing to be a huntress with Ruby just feels safe, and maybe even… right.

* * *

“You want me to _what_?” asks Qrow with mock incredulity. He sits sloppily in a simple wooden chair between his niece’s beds, leaning back with both feet propped up on the end table between them.

“Pweeease!” Ruby begs, sitting upright at a perfect ninety degree angle, clutching and twisting the hem of her bedsheets at her stomach in anticipation.

Qrow’s eyebrows, which had been raised comically high, relax into his typical mellow, mischievous expression. "You sure you won’t get scared this time?”

The tiny girl, outfitted in her favourite red pyjamas, hesitates before shaking her head vigorously. “Nope!”

Yang, returning from the bathroom and overhearing part of the conversation, picks up on Ruby’s anticipation as she turns into their room. “Halloween story?” she asks loudly, unable to contain her own building excitement.

Qrow had been reading to them both these past few nights, substituting for Yang’s impressive but sometimes clumsy efforts to read the most heroic tales she could find in the tiny library of their room. It was a welcome break, and Yang enjoyed it almost as much as Ruby. Just hearing a real live (working) huntsman recount past adventures and share stories of his own was often more enrapturing than the content of their own library.

For a moment Yang catches a faint wisp of a memory of Taiyang and Summer cuddling up with them both, reading from the same books lining their shelves now. She feels a wave of emotion rising up as Qrow leans his head back over the chair, stretching out and balancing dangerously on two of its legs in order to see her. The chair creaks in protest but he persists nonetheless, and the noise causes her nostalgic moment to dissipate.

“I suppose, ‘tis the season, after all. Just…” Qrow returns to a roughly upright position, and the chair falls silent as all four legs make contact with the carpet once more, “…give me a minute. It might seem pretty simple but Halloween has a complicated history mixed with all kinds of legends.”

Yang scrambles up onto her own bed, tucking herself in up to her chin, patiently awaiting tonight’s oration. _Is he gonna tell the same story as last year? What if it’s even more scary? What if it gives Ruby nightmares again?_

Meanwhile, Qrow plants his own legs on the floor, leaning his elbows on his knees, face towards the ground. There’s something mournful about his posture, and Yang can tell he’s thinking hard. _Too_ hard _. Maybe it’s a different story? Maybe it_ is _scarier?_

As if hearing her silent questions all at once, he rather suddenly looks up at Yang with a startled expression. She locks her lilacs with his dull reds, and is made uneasy by his stare, as if he’s just come back from a memory of his own, albeit a less pleasant one.

A beat of silence passes between them. Yang’s mouth is suddenly dry, and her skin tingles – “goosebumps”, she remembers Summer calling it – and wants to blink away this increasingly frightening pause, but something about his gaze has her frozen, until-

“Whoa, sorry, sorry…” he says drearily, tearing his gaze from hers. “Lots of information to sift through. When you have my kind of experience it tends to blend together at times. Plus…” he straightens up again, returning to his trademark grin, “…I don’t want to scare you _too_ much tonight.” He follows with a dark chuckle, smoothly transitioning from his earlier daze into his ominous-storyteller mode, and alternates sideways glances at them both as if daring them to commit to this experience.

_What was that?_

Yang, still not fully convinced by his quick recovery, simply nods, a wide-eyed but otherwise neutral expression on her face. Ruby appears to vibrate as she eagerly consents, though after a moment she begins to draw the covers up further.

“Alright… as you know, the common tradition on Halloween is to put on a costume and go knocking on doors to get candy. Sounds simple, and pretty fun, right?” begins Qrow, looking to them both to confirm their curiosity. “Well, it hasn’t always been about dressing up and trick-or-treating, as some might call it. Let me tell you how this all came to be-“

“Bad guys?” interjects Ruby, clearly impatient to get to the good part where a legendary hero saves the day in the nick of time.

“Sort of, yeah, but just wait. We’re not quite there yet.” He waits a beat, as if to demonstrate the need for patience.

Yang feels nearly as anxious as Ruby to get to the exciting part, but has a suspicion that this telling might be a little different than what either of them were expecting. She sits up against the headboard and begins sifting through her shoulder length golden yellow tresses, a subconscious fidgeting of sorts that she has recently begun to find relaxing.

“As I was saying, modern Halloween traditions, at least for those who still celebrate, are… a little more complicated to explain than you might expect. Basically, it’s a mix of everything that came before it,” Qrow explains, pausing to eye Ruby warily as she stifles a yawn. “And before you get bored and nod off, I promise that there’s at least one legend of sorts that lives on in our celebrations, and it’s not all about fun and games… well, nothing so innocent, anyhow.”

This has Ruby’s full attention, but she opts to remain silent to hear more this time.

“First and perhaps most importantly, the end of this month coincides with the end of the harvest season in most places in Remnant. It’s a time at which fall is working her- _its_ magic,” Qrow corrects himself swiftly, and Yang wonders briefly about his choice of words as he continues. “Most crops are done growing and need to be harvested before the cold sets in and ruins all that hard-earned food. And if you’re trying to raise a family on a farm outside of a city, you’re gonna need all you can grow.”

Yang feels a modicum of drowsiness pull on her eyelids, and she realizes she is no longer playing with her hair. A quick glance over at Ruby tells her they’re both losing interest in this lecture, fast. _What is it about adults that makes them so interested in such boring details?_

Qrow, seemingly oblivious to their waning interest, perseveres. “See, long ago, the largest cities of Remnant were little more than scattered villages and private homes spanning vast countrysides. Vale, or whatever it was called at the time, was a small farming and fishing community for generations. No walls, no automated defenses, and…”

He pauses for dramatic effect, and it works – the sudden break in dialogue grabs the girls’ attention again.

“No huntsmen.”

A much more potent silence fills the room. Qrow looks at the sister eerily, and Ruby is the first to breathe again, and then whispers with trepidation, “No hunsmin?”

Yang finds her breath again and can’t help but wonder if the mere thought of a Remnant without huntsmen might just be the scariest thing her sister might ever encounter. For herself, while concerned and now very much gripped once more, she has to know…

“How long ago?” she voices her thought, surprised at her own meekness.

“Ten year?” inquires Ruby, whose whisper rises in pitch with each guess. “Fowty-ten? Niney-ten?” She gasps, as if afraid to even dare to guess any higher. “Hunjid-ten?”

Qrow looks straight at her, leaning forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Even _longer_ ,” he growls.

“Whoa…” Ruby’s eyes widen, no longer exhibiting any signs of fatigue.

Qrow continues, a hint of bolstered ego in his voice and his crafty smile. “Hundreds, maybe thousands of years ago, long before the Great War that shaped the kingdoms as we know them today, long before cities and territories were even large or strong enough to be part of a kingdom, and long before generations of people trained specifically to become huntsmen and huntresses all over Remnant… all people had to rely on were their strongest and healthiest villagers, who would take up spears and pitchforks and torches only when they needed to in order to defend themselves… which, unfortunately, was pretty often.”

Clearly anticipating Ruby’s next question, he interjects himself to discourage her from vocalizing it, “and there were no guns or bombs or Dust crystals… well, nothing accessible, anyways. That… that all came much later.” He breaks his pace on a somber note.

“Monsters were at least as rampant and aggressive as they are today. You can bet that without unifying bodies of government, people were at each other’s throats all the time – and so too, then, were these monsters: the creatures of Grimm.”

Ruby emits a squeak of fear at the mention of the Grimm and furrows her brow with concern, which seems odd to Yang. They had read about them so often on their own that Ruby had begun playing along with her sister’s reading by adding monstrous sound effects from time to time – a cute growl here, an adorable roar there, and so on. Yang chalks it up to immersion in Qrow’s narrative, which certainly has her gripped now, too.

Their uncle pauses only for breath and continues, his own expression darkening.

“In fact, the ancient people had many names for them, but what they were called didn’t matter when they believed their lives depended on the physical strength of their best warriors. It seems it took a long time for humanity to figure out the Grimm’s attraction to negativity.”

He releases the tension in his brow and leans back, looking pensively towards the end table between their beds. He inhales, ready to begin again, but is interrupted by Taiyang, whose head can be seen peeking around the corner.

“Well hold on, those warriors were sort of like huntsmen anyways, no?” He steps into full view and leans on the door frame with an eyebrow raised and a growing smirk to match it. “Even without _fancy weapons_ ,” he says pointedly at Qrow, “these warriors still had the only weapon they needed – _themselves_.” He flexes a bit and feigns some punches (complete with sound effects), prompting his daughters to giggle at his shadow-boxing.

Yang finds herself in complete agreement, strangely enough. While she had always admired her uncle’s scythe-sword-gun, she knew (from experience) that it was _heavy_ , and someone would have to be really strong in order to do anything more than just lift it. It followed, then, that a strong body was more important than any weapon.

Qrow groans dramatically, rasping out a complaint over the back of the chair with his head upside down. “Are you done, _Papa Punchy_? We were just getting to the good part.”

Taiyang pouts in frustration as his daughters burst into laughter at his new nickname, and then sighs, his goofy energy seeming to drain completely from him as his posture wilts. He looks… tired, but also… something else that Yang can’t quite place in her fading giggles. “Alright, just… don’t keep them up too late, alright? G’night, girls.” He looks like he wants to say more, but his half-lidded eyes travel in Qrow’s direction and instead he just smiles wearily, turning to leave the room.

“G’niiight!” the girls chime in unison, still coming down from their laughing fit.

Qrow clears his throat, a sound which reminds Yang of the feeling of accidentally letting the rake stray onto the dry dirt in the clearing outside while trying to corral the falling leaves.

“Alright, now where was I… right, the Grimm. Well, as it turns out, eventually someone _did_ figure out what kept bringing them to their doorsteps. This was an… _interesting_ someone, with an equally interesting solution. What’s unclear is whether they figured out the Grimm’s attraction to negativity _because_ of their idea, or were just responding to this newfound knowledge.”

Ruby looks confused, and offers an honest “huh?” to express as much. Yang isn’t sure she understands either.

“Remember how I told you that this time of year is a big deal because of the harvest?” He watches them nod curiously, and continues with a trace of a smirk on his face again. “Well, it was also believed by many people back in the day to be a time of great… _spiritual_ importance.” His smirk vanishes and his eyes are looking down at the carpet. Despite their obvious differences, something about his shift in appearance reminds Yang of Dad. Before she can place why, he continues, as if that moment had never existed, and Yang is left doubting her own perception.

“You see, people used to say that at the end of the harvest, as all the plants wither and die, the world of the living is brought dangerously close… to the world of the _dead_ ,” he rasps, staring intensely at both of them in alternation with each breath. “The spirits of the dead – those souls who weren’t given proper burials, or were otherwise disgraced at the time of their death – would sometimes _cross over_ to our world and terrorize the living.”

“Like ghosts?” Yang asks quietly. She feels herself trembling ever so slightly, and out of the corner of her eye she thinks she can see Ruby shaking much more visibly – but she has a determined look on her face that Yang has never seen before.

Not long ago this sort of thing would have been enough to make her tearfully plead Yang to stop reading, and then she would sleep fitfully until Yang snuggled up next to her. Yang would berate herself for having made a poor choice in reading selection while she whispered and hummed and sang softly into Ruby’s ear, lulling her back to sleep over the following hour or so.

But this time is different. Ruby is staring back at Qrow with nearly equal intensity despite her obvious fear, and he makes no indication of stopping. He looks over to Yang, nodding in answer to her question, which locks up her wandering mind yet again as he continues.

“These spirits were supposedly pretty dangerous, but many different peoples had different solutions for warding them off. Some people used to claim that terrible things would happen to the families of those spirits who returned to their homes to find things not how they left them. Some people would build shrines honoring their lost loved ones, claiming that the dead would leave them alone if they could see they were remembered respectfully. Some people left offerings from the harvest on their tables – grains, bread, fruits, and so on – or even on their doorsteps-“

“Like pumpkins!” Yang exclaims suddenly, feeling like she’s beginning to piece together some of her uncle’s story that hasn’t yet been told. She feels her heart beating faster and a smile growing on her face.

“Punkins,” echoes Ruby quietly, although her expression remains tense.

Qrow is briefly surprised at the outburst but beams back at them, seeming to enjoy their attention. “ _Exactly_. Supposedly, that’s where that tradition started. Whether or not the spirits cared for them – or the eventual arts and crafts involved – is up for debate, because most people now seem to think all this _spirits of the dead_ stuff is superstition to begin with. But back then… well, this is where things get even messier.”

He cracks his neck audibly, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Ruby still looks hyper-focused but Yang cannot see her shaking anymore. Relieved, Yang also feels herself relax a bit more.

“The Grimm were a pain in the neck for people year-round. But of those who bought into this spirits of the dead stuff, some chose to believe that the Grimm _were_ these spirits – those of animals and men alike, distorted by their rage – and that they only came into the world at this time of year.”

“That doesn’t make any sense… the Grimm were- _are_ always around,” Yang responds, much more invested in this story than she had imagined she would be.

“You’re right, it doesn’t make much sense, but at least for a time, people just thought that was because so many of them came into the world at once that they just lingered all year, _or longer_. Turns out they weren’t entirely wrong, because we do see some Grimm grow over time. But as for where they _come from_ …” Qrow goes quiet again, an increasingly familiar dark look gracing his angular features momentarily, before he subtly shakes it off. “Well, no one really knows for sure. But these folks sure didn’t,” he chuckles softly, as if he had just told a clever little joke, rather than explained the naivety of early humanity in their plight against the Grimm.

His humour falling flat, he continues on, darkly serious once more, and softer. “Unfortunately, _some_ people chose to believe that they could protect themselves by giving the Grimm _exactly_ what they wanted.”

“Huh?” It is Yang’s turn to voice their shared confusion. The way Qrow looks at her then sends a shiver down her spine.

“Some people, even today, might tell you that the lives of the many outweigh the lives of the few. And there might be some logic to that, but… well, as huntsmen, we’re _supposed_ to do our best to help _everyone_. But it’s not always easy… or possible.” There is an immense weight to the delivery of his words that gives Yang goosebumps again. “Point is, some people believed that if the Grimm were so bent on destroying everything, so hungry for death, then they should give it to them, in controlled doses, in order to keep them from ravaging entire villages. They would sacrifice a few people to protect the masses, usually by casting them away as exiles to be hunted by the Grimm.”

Ruby looks terrified, but to her credit, appears to be persisting – though her fists are clenched tightly around her blankets, her knuckles ghostly white.

Qrow sighs. “So, there’s the harvest, and the Grimm, and the spirits, and the people who think the spirits _are_ the Grimm… and the people who tried to ward them off with methods ranging from mundane to inhumane,” he summarizes, and grimaces slightly at his rhyme. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “Then, there’s the woman who supposedly figured out some amount of the truth, one way or another, and proposed a course of action that ultimately synthesized a lot of these beliefs in such a way that the Grimm, at least, became less of a problem – something that consequently relieved a lot of related concerns.”

“Whossat?” asks Ruby quietly, with a bit of familiar awe returning to her expression.

“A… spiritual leader of sorts, from an ancient tribe. Not really a woman of the people, like most of your heroes, but someone with just enough… _imagination_ to see through the increasingly problematic superstitions that had become tradition. Most people agree that her idea involved openly celebrating, rather than fearing, the end of each harvest season – that instead of hiding in their homes with their goods waiting for the spirits to come and go as winter came along, they should share their bounties with one another in order to bring joy to each other and consequently the spirits, who might then take comfort in knowing their living relatives were safe and happy. She was bent on _inviting_ the spirits in, rather than trying to avoid them. That didn’t sit well with a lot of people at first – I mean, _welcoming_ the spirits of the dead, or the Grimm? They must’ve thought she was crazy. But it was this shift in attitude that mattered, more than the action itself. After growing festivities were followed by diminishing Grimm attacks, people started to catch on. Her more devout followers began dressing up as Grimm and other scary, imagined spirits, in order to parody them – make something fun out of it all – and ultimately reduce the collective dread.”

Another puzzle piece snaps into place in Yang’s mind. “That’s why we dress up!” she exclaims, feeling satisfied with her deduction, and subsequently validated when Qrow smiles at her.

“Apparently so. And it was an effective strategy – to name one’s enemy is to reduce them to nothing but what they are at their core. Although in some cases, this worked a little… too well.”

Caught up trying to understand the sudden words of wisdom, Yang almost misses her uncle’s shift to a more stern expression.

“You see, just because you can name something and poke a little fun at it doesn’t mean it’s not still dangerous in reality. Some people lose sight of that – of reality,” he almost whispers.

Another pause settles into the room, and Yang grows restless. “What was her name?” she asks with genuine curiosity, hoping to break the spell holding her uncle’s thoughts captive.

“Hm? Oh, her… well, it’s not clear what her real name was, but most people refer to her as Corvida, or simply the Hooded Lady.”

Startled, Ruby pipes up. “Hood?”

Qrow smiles again. “Yeah, she was big on hooded robes, apparently. She lived alone most of her life and tended to hide her face from others – like I said, not exactly a people person. It was said that following the success of her unusual ideas, she was revered as a sort of seer, or in some cases feared like a witch. Some say she and her tribe hailed from just outside what is now Windpath, over in Anima. A few claims have been made about her once living just north of Vale. And others say she and her people flourished in the rich lands of Vacuo… long before Dust became more valuable than people’s _lives_ and the Schnees _ruined_ the whole-“ Qrow stops abruptly, looking up at his nieces, who are looking back at him worriedly – his tone had shifted from mysterious to intensely bitter remarkably fast. “Sorry, that’s… not important right now. She’s a bit of a mystery herself, and that’s kind of the point. As I’ve said, so much of this is a mix of similar ideas with slight variations, all from different groups of people at different times.”

Yang is slow to respond, her head spinning with all this information – she’s pretty sure she’s forgotten some of it already, although some of it seems oddly familiar. A quick glance tells her Ruby is at least as dazed, and close to dozing off again (though by no fault of their storyteller). Yang manages to identify one missing piece of the puzzle, though, and asks simply, “trick-or-treat?”

Returning yet again to his warmer smile, her uncle chuckles softly. “Yeah, that’s right, I almost forgot. See, most of that is rooted in more ancient history – but the whole door-to-door candy-grabbing thing you kids like so much is the product of more recent generations oversimplifying the whole process. See, eventually the tradition of sharing the harvest goods turned into ‘do me a favour and I’ll give you something extra,’ or ‘sing me a song and I’ll give you one more cookie’ – _tricks_ , if you will, for _treats_.”

Ruby’s eyes open wide again at the word “cookie,” but it is a losing battle as her lids battle to stay open.

“Now it’s just something people say, and everyone just gives you candy, right? No tricks. It’s a shame, really… that’s one tradition that should have stuck around. Had some interesting times while we were all together at Beacon…”

Yet again, Qrow’s face morphs into a darker visage as his voice trails away. This time Yang thinks she has an idea of what has caused it – the crystal clear memory of a framed picture from downstairs burns in her mind – but she remains silent. Across the gap between beds, Ruby has descended into her blankets, finally having lost the battle with sleep. Yang glances at the clock, and in doing so registers the ticking sound with annoying clarity – and _yikes_ , it is _late_.

She shifts in her blankets enough to drown out the ticking, and this thankfully gets Qrow’s attention. Cautiously clearing his throat, he speaks up again. “Right, well, that’s about that. Looks like we’ll have to catch her up another time, hey Sunshine?” He manages a weak grin that betrays his own weariness. “G’night, kiddo,” he says softly, the chair creaking rather violently as he gets up to leave.

“G’night, Uncle Qrow,” responds Yang with a weary smile of her own as he closes the door.

Yang is overwhelmed with all this new information, and while she has difficulty processing much of it, she can’t stop thinking about it all. _Corvida…_

One last glance at Ruby reveals she has already unconsciously moved into her deep slumber position (completely re-tucking the blankets into a pseudo-cocoon around her).

Yang curls up under her own covers and tries to make sense of her uncle’s strangely gripping history lesson, but eventually she too loses the battle with sleep.

* * *

_She glides down the stairs and turns on the television with a burnt toast remote._

_The screen morphs into a dark white mirror as bandages slither through her fingers._

_She watches herself, trapped in the void, tears melting from red eyes._

_A flurry of wings whisks her glowing yellow hair in front of her face and blinds her._

_Black ink splashes into the center of her blurred vision, spreading out to form a formless entity._

_Ghostly hands pull back a black hood at the top of the diluted figure._

_Feathery black hair flaps away from a pale woman’s face and reveals fearsome red eyes._

_Raven’s mouth forms a familiar smirk, and Yang’s sight swirls into oblivion._

* * *

Yang awakens to a dull cacophony of angry bird calls, somewhere through their windows, outside, in the dead of night.

Her pillow is damp, and her eyes feel swollen.

She lacks the willpower to rise from her blankets, too inundated by the weirdness of her most recent dream, and the apparent sadness it caused her. This was not the first in which she saw Raven’s – her mother’s – face since her adventure, and she had a feeling it would not be the last.

She gives up trying to make sense of anything and just listens to the squabbling in the forest. Gradually it subsides, and she fades into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> First, THANK YOU again for your patience with my unfortunate hiatus that has resulted in delivering the Halloween-themed follow-up at nearly Christmastime. This was one of those chapters that I just couldn’t get right for the longest time, and then it grew wildly out of control, and I’m still not sure about it... but here's a part of it! The next bit is ready and waiting for a final review, and then I can finally move on, and much more efficiently as the long-term framework of this continues to take shape. I appreciate your continued readership – and if you’re joining this story for the first time, thank you for giving it a chance!
> 
> Second, WOW Halloween is complicated. I wanted to give some RWBY flavour to it but lo and behold modern Halloween traditions borrow from so many different cultural traditions from centuries past that it’s already similar to how RWBY borrows from everything, so what you have here is now a just a super-synthesis of select aspects of Halloween history. For the curious, look up "Fomorians" - remarkably similar in many ways to the Creatures of Grimm, prominent in Irish mythology with possible connections to Samhain, which is basically one of the main predecessors of modern-day Halloween.
> 
> Third, the entire month of November was basically a giant whirlwind of events and big adjustments for me. I’m now metaphorically “on the road” (actually on the water) for the next six months for work, so I have spotty connectivity but a relatively simple routine that I can work with to get some more writing done now that I’m settled.
> 
> Fourth, WOW Volume 5 has me breathless. So much incredible dialogue and emotional content. SO MUCH YANGST. I honestly didn’t expect them to dig out the subtext of her suffering as much as they have, at least not so quickly, so I’ve been a little hesitant to write at times because they’re actually doing everything I wanted them to do with Yang’s story that they hadn’t addressed yet after V4 (which inspired me to start this in the first place). For now I think my ideas are still within my minimum 90% canon threshold, so I’m satisfied that I can keep going in the direction I wanted while still adding my own flavours.
> 
> And finally, in my hype-induced craze and writer’s-block-induced haze I became desperate to engage with the FNDM a bit more somehow, so if you feel so inclined, you can now find me on Tumblr as thomsenator-kms, or Reddit as 7homsenator. I look forward to sharing more of my interpretations and excitement with you all. Please leave a review/comment, especially if you notice any inconsistencies or other issues. I’ve been reviewing and editing these myself (some very minor technical changes have been made to older chapters) but as you’re probably all too aware that often isn’t enough to catch everything!
> 
> Until next time (much sooner!), cheers!  
> -kms


	9. Costumes and Candles

(the day before Halloween)

* * *

Taiyang is conspicuously absent from breakfast, though by the dishes left near the sink Yang can tell he’s already been up – an early start to his “secret mission.” It isn’t until almost dinnertime that Yang hears his footsteps crunching up the walkway.

A brisk autumn breeze rushes through the half-formed piles of fallen leaves from the other day, effectively laying waste to all of Qrow’s raking efforts. Emerging from their current “battle” against “Evil Unkie Qrow” around the side of the house, Yang spots a beat-up leather satchel hanging off her dad’s left shoulder at his side, and two large and similarly aged cloth bags hanging from his right hand, which is also sharing custody of a large square box with his left hand, held carefully in front of his abdomen. The satchel bears a faded insignia that she immediately recognizes from her trip into town with Ruby, and she is fairly certain she knows why he has it.

Following Yang’s gaze, Ruby wastes no time in scurrying around her sister and right to his side. “Daddieee! Whassat?” she prods, eyeing the box.

Amused by her ecstatic curiosity, he simply leans down towards her as best he can and half-whispers, “It’s a secret… for the mission.” He winks at her. She seems to understand, nodding sincerely, and interrupts her wide-eyed stare with a “wink” of her own (using both eyes at the same time).

Taiyang disappears inside with his secret goods, and Ruby follows him at a safe distance, as if wary of spoiling the secret for herself, but too curious to leave him alone. Qrow sits up from his latest dramatic “death” pose among the leaves, and taps Yang on the shoulder, prompting her to turn around to face him and his suspicious grin.

“You may have defeated me this time… but I’ll get you next time!” he monologues, throwing up a bunch of leaves between them and scrambling to his feet. His lanky limbs flail about as he slips a bit, struggling to move past her and towards the front door. Yang just laughs, appreciative that her uncle could, at times, be just as silly as surly. Catching her breath, she does her best to remove the loosest of the leaves from her messy golden mane and takes off after him, suddenly determined to beat him to the door.

He seems to think he’s already won, and is at a more relaxed pace - so she’ll surprise him and zoom around his right side. They’re almost there, when-

_Thmp._

A dull pain quickly begins to register in her forehead and tailbone - she’s now sitting awkwardly on the ground behind him, momentarily shocked.

He reacts slowly as well, registering her collision with his right elbow, which draws his gaze away from where it had been when he had stopped so suddenly. In the short moment before the need to fight back tears overwhelms her senses, Yang tries to follow his gaze, but only sees their front walkway, and their mailbox, on which a large blackbird is perched rather ostentatiously. But then she has to respond to the pain, and squeezes her eyes shut, tearing up and whimpering slightly as she rubs her forehead.

“Yang, are you alright? I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Qrow rounds on her, voice full of concern. He bends down, trying to assess the damage, but she looks up into his wider-than-usual eyes, and nods shakily. If she’s being honest, the pain doesn’t actually bother her that much - the suddenness of the collision is what seems to have shaken her more. She rubs her tailbone tenderly and grabs her uncle’s outstretched right hand with her own, borrowing his strength to rise back to her feet.

He places his left hand gently on her shoulder as she steadies herself, and keeps looking at her, seeming a touch surprised - impressed, even - before glancing back over his shoulder towards the mailbox, and then back to Yang. He closes his eyes briefly and lets out a small sigh. “Sorry about that. I guess I managed to get back at you after all… but you’re strong for your age. Looks like it’ll take more than an elbow to beat you…” He looks up thoughtfully, as if scanning the skies. After a second, “Maybe I should use my whole arm?” he says mischievously, flexing unimpressively with his free arm.

Yang, determined to ignore the lingering soreness, catches on, and grins maniacally as she dashes past him and into the house, shouting back, “You’re on, old man!”

“Hey!” he growls after her.

Once inside, Yang halts almost as suddenly as Qrow had seconds earlier. She catches sight of Ruby gawking at a mess of assorted leather armour pieces scattered around the living room, apparently having been unloaded from the two tattered bags their father had been carrying, now empty and discarded in a corner. As if the sight hadn’t been enough to stop her in her tracks, a whiff of stale body odour seems insistent on giving her pause as well.

Taiyang is sifting through it all, frantically focused, trying to sort out leather helmets, knee pads, shoulder pads, elbow pads, greaves, vambraces, gloves, boots, chestpieces, belts and straps of all kinds. Eventually he picks up a helmet - a simple hardened cap with a chin strap - and upon closer inspection, grins triumphantly. “Ruby?” he beckons her near, and in the blink of an eye she is right in front of him, an inquisitive eyebrow raised as she tries to watch him put the helmet on her head.

After some disgruntled squeaks and shifting of messy dark hair, he announces, “There ya go! Whaddya think, Yang?” He turns Ruby around to show off her new armour - she fidgets with the clasp of the chin strap, apparently not entirely comfortable.

The sight is so endearing that Yang has to stifle a giggle (at which Ruby pouts dramatically), but she manages to raise her right thumb in approval.

“Mission complete!” Taiyang declares. “I went to Signal today and dug through the old training lockers for some sparring equipment. Most of it is a _little_ big for you girls,” he gestures at a breastplate that looks about as tall as Ruby, “but we might be able to make do with some of it. Anything you want to use here for your huntress costumes is yours until after Halloween!” He knocks lightly on Ruby’s helmet as if to emphasize his success, but Ruby flinches and furrows her brow, slouching.

“No helmet!” she cries. “Jus’ hood!”

After finding what little armour fits the both of them, the sisters proceed to raid their respective wardrobes, but somehow the familiar items within are not exciting or mature enough for either of them, even when Ruby tries on one of Yang’s tunics.

Sharing a cautious glance, Yang leads Ruby into their parents’ - _no, Dad’s_ \- room and slowly slides open the mirrored door to the closet.

Several nearly-identical outfits of varying shades of browns and yellows hang ready to go, with a basket full of various small red cloths lying on a low shelf. A transparent lidded box containing all sorts of coloured linens sits next to it, and Yang reaches in to pull it out for further inspection. Though the interior of the closet is dark, she spies something in the far side that causes her to freeze, her breath catching.

She feels a hot pain rise from her belly and into her throat, spreading through her cheeks and into her eye sockets. Her vision blurs, and she feels a torrent of panicked emotion about to-

“Yaaang?” an impatient Ruby tugs at her sleeve. She gasps, snapping back into focus, and swallows hard, squeezing her eyes shut in the darkness of the closet.

_No, I can’t let her see me like this_...

Yang casually pulls out the box and pops off the lid, eyeing the contents absentmindedly. “See anything in here? I’m gonna grab something…” her voice fades away at the end as her curiosity gets the better of her.

She barely registers the shifting of fabrics and the mousey noises of deliberation behind her as she turns back to the closet. Gingerly, she slides the doors from one side to the other, slowly revealing the other half of the closet.

Yang glances up at a single white hooded cape hanging gracefully above a sturdy wooden chest. Seemingly suspended in midair, the bottom of the cape flutters a bit with the changing air pressure, as if _breathing_ fresh air for the first time in ages. The pure white exterior cloth, contrasted by a vivid red interior, seems to shine, even in the evening darkness of the room.

_Like a ghost..._

Yang feels warmth flood her face, pouring freely out of her eyes. A small warm hand finds its way into her own right hand.

_Mom?_

Looking down for the source, she has to blink a few times to clear her blurred vision. The face looking back at her is in tears, lips trembling, but there is an unmistakable kindness within those familiar silver eyes. Something pure, and hopeful.

_...Summer?_

Yang squeezes the hand tightly, afraid to let go of this miraculous connection. Her vision clouds over again and she wipes away her own tears with her free arm.

Ruby stares back up at her, sniffling softly, and gasping for breath. “Mommy?” Her voice is a ghostly whistle through choked sobs.

A modicum of clarity returns to Yang’s mind and she pulls Ruby into a tight embrace, feeling her baby sister begin to heave with sadness. Struggling not to do the same, Yang half-whispers, “Yeah. That’s…” she hiccups, feeling a familiar pressure in her sinuses. “That was Mom’s.”

Yang wraps herself tighter around Ruby, her long yellow hair seeming to enclose them in a private world of shared sisterly sadness. They remain that way, clinging to each other in their grief - over the mother they both lost - for what feels like several minutes.

As Yang feels Ruby relaxing, she relents, opening them both up to the world once more. She is about to close the door to the closet again when she hears footsteps approaching, and a voice from just outside the door to the room.

“Girls, are you almost done? Dinner’s ready... Girls? Where’d you g-”

Taiyang halts abruptly upon turning into the room, sighting his daughters standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the open closet door. They look back at him with miserable, sheepish eyes - lilac and silver - that betray a hint of fear as well. “...Oh…” he finishes, rooted to the spot.

They see his eyes glance upwards at the white cloth, and Yang tenses up as she sees his eyes start to glaze over.

_No… he can’t leave us again._

She’s about to shout out, something, anything, in desperation, but he closes his eyes and sighs, and she hesitantly relaxes.

“Oh, girls…” their dad breathes, kneeling down to meet them as he approaches. His expression is laced with a familiar sadness, but also sympathy, and a thin, nostalgic smile. He welcomes them both into his own embrace, and after some more shared tears, he lets them go.

“I know this has been hard. For all of us. But y’know what?” he perks up, cautiously, turning his attention back to the open closet. “She loved you both very much, and I think she’d be proud of you both for being so strong for each other, and…” he sighs, “for me.”

They share sad smiles with each other, and he adds, “And I think… she’d want you girls to look like the coolest huntresses _ever_.”

He walks past them, leaving them to wonder at his statement. Bending down, he grabs the wooden chest by the handle. Grunting with effort, he lugs the deceptively large container out of the closet. On the front, Yang sees a small label that reads “SUMMER” to the left of a large clasp which currently locks the contents away.

After a pause, in which he simply rests his hands on the chest with a gentleness Yang could scarcely recall witnessing from him, Taiyang carefully unfastens the clasp.

“Well, would you like to see what treasures Summer left behind for you girls?”

* * *

Yang looks herself up and down in the mirror, feeling a mix of satisfaction and embarrassment. Next to her, Ruby bounces up and down excitedly, also examining her.

“Coooooollllll!” warbles Ruby, completely smitten with her big sister’s chosen huntress attire. Yang feels some of her embarrassment melt away, and smiles at herself reassuringly.

Tying her hair back into bushy pigtails are two scrunchy purple hair ties that complement her lighter purple eyes. A patterned orange scarf wraps around her neck and trails down behind her, almost like a twin-tailed cape. A comfortable beige tunic not unlike her own hangs loosely around her until she ties a purple sash around her waist like a belt. Overtop rests a sleeveless faded denim vest, which gives her an additional sense of toughness. She also wears her own lightweight black pants and thick orange socks.

After some debate, she had also decided to do away with the helmet - she remembered Qrow saying something about modern huntsmen relying more on their “aura” anyways. Still, she dons nearly every other piece of sparring armour she could find in her size - pads on her shoulders, elbows, and knees, bracers on her arms, sturdy boots (a bit too big, prompting her to eschew a comfortable pair of greaves as well) and a pair of thin, fingerless (whether by design or otherwise) gloves. On most of these items a faded or scratched Signal Academy emblem is visible. Yang does her best to cover them in bright stickers of hearts, suns, flames, dragons and rainbows.

She raises her fists in what she imagines to be a fighting stance, furrowing her brow in challenge. Ruby laughs appreciatively, raising her own fists to match her sister but loses a much-too-big shoulder pad in the process.

Ruby had managed to find a simple white bodice among Summer's old clothes that, while too big for her normally, was easy enough to fold and tighten so as to fit her upper body, if loosely. This sits over a plain black shirt patterned all over with red flower petals, and is complemented by knee-length white socks in her tiny black shoes. Tied all over her arms and legs are various ribbons and scarves of varying hues of red, and Yang has to convince her that another scarf around her neck would interfere with her hood. Her own black leggings and one of her red skirts complete the base ensemble.

Very little of the sparring armour brought home actually fits her, and little of what does ends up making the final cut, save for knee pads and a single shoulder and elbow pad sharing her left arm. She gratefully borrows some of Yang’s stickers – mostly just hearts and flowers, which she layers generously on her shoulder pad. The asymmetry works well though, Yang thinks, and if not for her sister’s doll-like appearance with her childish features (and way too many ribbons), she could probably pass for a real huntress.

Yang can’t help but wonder if Dad might have had some of Raven’s old equipment or attire, but is not eager to ask, and is happy enough making use of anything of Summer’s.

Qrow appears truly astonished when they carefully wander downstairs to show off their costumes. Blinking rapidly, he clears his throat loudly, which grows into a genuine laugh. His expression transforms into one of the broadest smiles Yang has ever seen on him as he claps slowly. “Now _that’s_ a pair of huntresses if I ever saw any!” he bellows appreciatively.

Out of the corner of her eye, Yang thinks she sees Taiyang raise a warning eyebrow at Qrow, but when she looks again he’s smiling at them both too.

“You both look great. Just wait there a second and let me take some pictures…” he holds up a finger, indicating for them to wait while he searches for his scroll. He fumbles through the Signal Academy satchel he brought home that day, clumsy in his excitement to a degree Yang isn’t sure she can remember.

After forcibly smiling through several too many photos and poses (Qrow gets impatient, groaning about having to wait so long for dinner, before going into the kitchen on his own), they all sit down to a hearty (if reheated) meal. Ruby doesn’t once complain about her vegetables, and the conversation is lighthearted, mostly centered around their stylistic choices - particularly their choice in colours, as “colour is the core of self-expression,” according to Qrow.

As Taiyang begins clearing the plates, his expression softens and he hesitates before breaking the contented silence that had settled over the household. “So… remember that secret mission I told you about?” The girls nod. “It wasn’t just to get you costumes.”

Yang and Ruby exchange curiously excited glances.

“I spoke with Headmaster Conifer today while I was at Signal. Starting next week, I’ll be teaching again!” he explains with a restrained hint of pride in his voice, and a cautiously hopeful smile on his face. “Daddy has a job again!”

Ruby cheers and claps excitedly at the good news. Yang only partially shares the sentiment, smiling along with them, but starts to put the unspoken pieces together.

Qrow, leaned back precariously in his chair with one hand on his belly, smirks. “Well wouldja look at that! Your old man’s still got some spark after all,” he teases, though the brief but intense look that passes between their father and their uncle speaks to Yang of something less friendly.

The initial excitement dissipates and Yang can’t shake the itch any longer - she has to know.

To her surprise, Ruby beats her to the punch.

“Unkie Qrow stay home?” she turns to their greying relative with puppy dog eyes.

Qrow looks legitimately distraught for a moment, before setting his chair down properly and leaning towards the table with a bittersweet smile. “Well… as much as… no, Ruby. I… I can’t,” he slowly stammers. Then, more somberly, “I’m sorry.” He avoids making eye contact with anyone as his expression gradually returns to something more neutral.

Ruby looks almost as heartbroken as when they had opened Summer’s side of the closet, but then seems to remember something. “But... tomorrow?” she asks, again with her puppy dog eyes.

He chuckles softly, perking up again. “Of course. I promised you that much, didn’t I, kiddo?”

Ruby, immediately placated, cheers again, but Yang struggles to share the sentiment - her hunch has been confirmed. She has questions, but decides not to voice them, for fear of dampening the atmosphere any more tonight.

Taiyang, seemingly bothered by the shift in attention, pipes up again. “Well, it’s getting late; you too should start getting ready for bed since we ate so late. Don’t think I don’t know how late you were up last night,” he chides with a knowing smile, eyeing Qrow, who throws up his hands in mock innocence.

“I just gave them a little history lesson, is all. And before we get too far here, your Sunny Little Dragon here still owes me an arm wrestle while she’s still dressed for combat,” he smirks, narrowing his eyes mischievously at Yang.

The provocative invitation causes Yang to snap out of her pensive state, a fire of determination igniting inside her once more.

“Bring it, _old man_!” she taunts, ignoring her father’s defeated eye roll.

Minutes later they are staring each other down from across the coffee table in the living room.

It always seemed to be a close match whenever they played like this. Sometimes Qrow won, but when it seemed like she needed the win most, Yang would instead. She was beginning to realize he was letting her win all those times, but then… this time is different.

Qrow isn’t as muscly as Dad (who never lets Yang win), so it is easier to believe in a real battle between them. She still doesn’t get the impression that he is giving it his all, but there is a genuine note of surprise in his expression when they first tense up after the countdown - and she feels a surge of energy too, once Dad and Ruby start rooting for her, shouting over her shoulder.

Then the air grows hot around her and her vision seems to blur as if through a filter of red. Qrow’s eyes widen as he looks at her with astonishment and… recognition? His grip falters, if only for a second, and his hand is slammed down on the coffee table.

The adrenaline wears off almost instantly, and Yang’s sight is clear once more. Qrow looks at her with a thoughtful smile, rubbing his defeated wrist. “You’re getting stronger, Yang. I might not be able to keep up with you at this rate.”

She basks in the compliment as her father and sister clap her on the back in congratulations before they all retire for the night.

* * *

The next day, Ruby is more energetic than ever. Yang awakens to her name being incessantly sung in the most jovial manner imaginable, and though she feels gross and groggy it puts a smile on her face.

Rising creakily from her awkward spread-eagled slumber, Yang spies her sister bouncing happily at the foot of her own bed. “Happy Halloween, Ruby.”

“Mmhmmmmmmm...?” Ruby digs for more.

Yang rolls her eyes affectionately. “Annnd…” Without warning, she launches herself out of bed and towards her tiny sister with fingers flared outwards. Ruby squeaks in terror, the colour draining from her already pale face. “Happy birthday! I have a present for you…”

The tickling is short-lived, as at the supersonic height of Ruby’s laughter, Taiyang appears in the doorway inviting them to a deluxe breakfast.

The morning goes by as normal, albeit with an even more hyper Ruby almost literally bouncing off the walls.

They celebrate with an immense pink cake at lunch (which Yang figures must have been in the box Dad brought home), with four red candles lined up between the words “Happy Birthday” and “Ruby” in swirly red letters. Ruby gorges herself on the strawberries and whipped cream that border the top of the cake.

After lunch, Taiyang pulls Qrow aside to “discuss something.” Yang and Ruby resume their adventures outside, though the clouds seem to threaten rain, dampening Ruby’s mood. “Twickertweet?” she asks the sky dejectedly.

The sky, apparently, is also unable to resist her silver puppy dog eyes. They catch a glimmer of sunset peeking through as the storm clouds blow past, and excitedly don their huntress costumes once more.

The sisters eat their early dinner with gusto, eager to get out to the neighbours’ houses (and maybe even into town, Yang hopes) before too late. They make to stand, pushing away their empty plates, when Qrow blurts out, “Hold on a second…” and fluidly dips out of the kitchen.

Taiyang looks puzzled, and just as he moves to follow Qrow, their long-limbed uncle slides back into the kitchen with his arms behind his back, holding back a crooked smile. “I know we’re not all about _big_ gifts these days,” he says faux-apologetically in Taiyang’s direction, “but I figure if you’re gonna be a huntress, what better way to celebrate your birthday than with a cool weapon of your own?”

In her peripherals Yang sees her father’s eyes widen with alarm as Qrow produces what appears to be a miniature scythe - a small, curved blade at the end of a short wooden pole - from behind his back. Yang struggles to remember the name, though she has seen a few people on the island use it in their gardens.

Ruby is awestruck, beaming at her uncle, and begins to reach out for it when Taiyang steps between them, facing Qrow.

“ _No_. Are you _crazy_? That’s _hardly_ appropriate after our talk.”

Yang recognizes the venom in his tone from when she first woke up to them arguing. She is bewildered at her father’s extreme reaction; they read about hunstmen and deadly Grimm all the time – is a gardening tool really _that_ dangerous? She begins to wonder as to Taiyang’s reasoning when she notices Ruby shuddering, and whimpering.

“S-scyfe?” she stammers through sobs.

Growing desperate, Taiyang turns to meet her pleading gaze. “I’m sorry Ruby, you’re too young for weap-”

“What’s _hardly appropriate_ is a grown man leaving his kids unattended for weeks at a time!” snaps Qrow, leaning back on the door frame with a murderous glare. “After what happened you should be _training_ them, not _bubble-wrapping_ them!”

“I hate to break it to you, _Qrow_ , but _they’re just kids_.” Taiyang spits back, his blue eyes alight with a warning fire. “ _My_ kids,” he adds deliberately.

“Kids who can take care of _themselves_ better than your sorry ass,” Qrow viciously rebuffs.

“How _dare_ you!” Taiyang hisses, crescendoing into a blistering roar. “ _You_ of all people know _just_ how dangerous-”

_CRACK._

“ _NO MORE!_ ” screams Yang desperately.

The room goes silent as all eyes fall on her - looks of shock and astonishment, and… _why does Ruby look so scared?_

Through her reddened vision she registers a warm, yellowish light casting faint shadows behind her family in front of her. Looking down, she sees her gloved fists embedded in the table top. The wooden surface features a fresh spider web of cracks and splinters emanating from her point of impact.

And only _then_ does she feel it. As if touching a stovetop, her hands are suddenly jolted with searing pain that echoes through her arms and into her core - a burning sensation that then flushes her entire body with heat. Hot tears roll out of her eyes at an unsteady rate, and she realizes she is gritting her teeth, _hard_ , in a savage snarl. Her breathing is audible, and sounds _feral_ to her.

Yang gingerly lifts her fists from their wooden crater, and her expression shifts from desperate fury to horror.

_I did this._

_What is wrong with me?_

The light seems to fade from the room as her eyes readjust to her situation. Qrow has a steadying hand on Ruby’s shoulder as she grips him fearfully, but he looks oddly content. Taiyang is bending down to meet Yang at eye level, and tenderly reaches for her hands.

“Yang,” he tries.

She can’t look him in the eyes. She feels herself now breathing in rapid, shallow bursts. She feels cornered, trapped by her family’s bewildered stares, like a monstrous beast.

“Yang?”

She feels hands on her shoulders. She is shaking, but cannot tell if she is being shaken by the hands or if it is her panic.

“Yang! Look at me, sweetie. Are you okay?”

She snaps into focus, looking deep into her father’s eyes. Watery blue searches faded lilac. She feels tired, and lets him draw her into a relieved hug.

“I’m sorry, Yang. We shouldn’t have… _I_ shouldn’t have gotten so worked up. You girls…” He pulls back, glancing cautiously at the table, before cupping her shaking hands in his. He hesitates, attempting to finish the thought, but just sighs, relieving his own bodily tension. “How are your hands?”

_Burning. Numb. Tingly._

The pain is quickly subsiding, and her...  _bones_  seem to be shifting uncomfortably but almost imperceptibly, her hands tingling like they had simply fallen asleep. She could swear there was a trace of golden light sliding up her arms, like a ghostly glove.

“I think…” she sniffs tentatively, “I think I really hurt myself, but… it’s better now?”

Taiyang’s eyebrows rise, then he just smiles and nods, letting go of her as he says, “okay. Good.”

He turns to Ruby and Qrow, and Yang also looks in their direction. Ruby looks tragically confused, as if on the brink of panicking herself. “Whahappen?” she asks timidly.

Qrow’s hand tightens on her shoulder and his other finds itself in her hair, mussing it casually. He smiles.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I _think_... your sister just activated her semblance.”

He and Taiyang share a glance that involves raised eyebrows, flared nostrils and half-hearted smiles - communicating a number of things, Yang is sure, but what exactly, she has no idea.

_My… semblance?_

The room is quiet as this new idea sets in.

It is Ruby who breaks the silence, her face transforming from timid fear to unbridled joy. Her mouth opens wide and she inhales deeply. Yang braces her ears for impact with an anticipatory cringeing grin as a shriek of pure ecstasy fills the air, accompanied by the rapid clapping of tiny hands.

“ _SSSEEEMMMBLAAAAAAAAAAANNNNCCCE!”_

* * *

The big reveal sweeps aside the argument that came before, and once the initial celebration dies down, Taiyang takes Yang upstairs to further inspect her hands.

The heels of her hands display some faint bruising but otherwise she seems fine. She could have sworn she felt some of her fingers crack uncomfortably on impact, and she admits as much. He tells her not to worry, but bandages her hands carefully “just in case - plus, it looks pretty cool, dontcha think?” She smiles in agreement.

The bandages end up looking like a boxing wrap, and while they have to cut open the “fingerless” gloves a little more to fit them on, Yang feels that the end result is satisfyingly _cool_.

It’s already mostly dark out when she returns downstairs to get her boots on. Ruby is sitting oddly still on the bottom step as Qrow leans his back on the front door, as if to keep her from running off ahead of them.

Taiyang and Qrow quietly agree that Qrow will go with them to keep watch. In a gesture of good faith, Qrow has haphazardly cut and taped a plastic guard around the sharp edge of Ruby’s present –something he calls a kama, “which is basically a miniature scythe” – much to her disappointment. She is unimpressed with the awkward, bulky aesthetic of the protected blade, but happily accepts that at least she can bring it with her to complete her costume.

Yang slides on her boots, filling out the extra space with an extra layer of thick socks, and Qrow looks to the sisters with his casual smirk. “Ready for some treats?”

“ _Twicker_ tweet,” Ruby haughtily corrects him. Yang's not sure how much of Qrow's lecture Ruby remembered or understood, but she is clearly not giving up on the common practice.

“Whatever. If you really wanna make it into town we’d best get going.”

A persistently mild breeze accompanies them out the door, keeping them cool with their extra clothing and equipment weighing them down.

They make a beeline for town, foregoing their neighbours further down the road, and only visiting the ones on the way who have any carved pumpkins or other spooky decorations out on display. Their candy haul is surprisingly substantial early on, as it seems most of the children living on the island either live in town, have recently moved, or are staying at Signal, and so with fewer guests at their doors, the residents have more to give away - which they do, quite generously, to the girls’ delight.

Qrow watches from the road, letting them approach each house on their own.

The sun has completely set by the time they reach town, and while they had promised not to be back too late, Yang was pretty sure Qrow had a different idea of what that meant, and was glad for it.

The town of Patch, for all its humble simplicity, was a sight to behold on Halloween. Decorations hang and float and sit and lie and flicker and growl and shake around nearly every corner, and almost every home has a display of some sort. Other children of varying ages wander the streets in costumes of their own - bedsheet ghosts, zombies, escaped convicts, cartoon characters (lots of Pumpkin Petes of varying quality), animals, and even a couple homemade Grimm masks, which Ruby is keen to avoid after two masked individuals surprise them from around a corner (only to be scared back by an impressively intimidating big sister).

Yang and Ruby receive some odd glances and guesses at their costumes, but there are a few who recognize their intent (or cleverly disguise their uncertainty in the form of the question, “are you girls _huntresses_?”) and though a couple of these people appear unenthused, most applaud them for their implied bravery, selfless deeds, and stylistic creativity.

As the night goes on, they wander into the main square near the docks, where they had come on their own just a few weeks ago looking for groceries. Many of the market stalls are open, selling homemade Halloween crafts and gross-looking “potions” and baked goods. The usual aroma of salt and fish and spices is overpowered by that of chocolate and bread and buttery popcorn and fruity concoctions (and a vaguely familiar bitter-sour scent nearer to the “potions”).

Ruby scans the area, looking hard for something.

“You want me to get you a birthday cookie?” Yang asks, eager to find an appropriately sugary gift for her baby sister.

Ruby hesitates, then nods thoughtfully, but her expression dims as she continues looking around. She turns to Yang, concerned. “Antwers?”

_Antwers? ...Antlers?_

Puzzled, Yang takes a moment to ponder her sister’s meaning. She thinks back to that day, when she was so preoccupied with questioning Headmaster Conifer, and how Ruby had had chocolate on her face…

“You wanna get something from the faunus lady?”

Ruby nods emphatically, pleased with her sister’s deduction, but she still looks concerned. “I’she gone?”

Yang takes a turn scanning the market stalls. It’s difficult in the dark with all the decorations around, but she thinks she can remember where they encountered Headmaster Conifer, and from there she tries to remember watching Ruby meet her new friend out of the corner of her eye.

_Which one…_

Yang thinks she sees a pair of antlers growing from the head of a young woman, but upon closer inspection it turns out to be a costume piece - not a full animal mask, but a simple pair of fake antlers. Something about it causes Yang to frown. _Are they dressing up as a faunus?_ That didn’t seem right. Usually if someone wore a mask of another person’s face or defining features it was of a celebrity, and usually worn mockingly.

Qrow curiously watches from one of the far stalls, sampling a “Huntsmen’s Comfort” from a “potion” vender. Catching his eye, Yang dismisses his raised eyebrow with a quick thumbs up, before realizing she’s already scanned the whole sqaure.

Perplexed, she leads Ruby over to where she thought she could picture the woman’s stall, looking for any signs of her sister’s faunus friend. As she nears what she feels should be the right area, she stumbles over something - a loose paving stone, maybe? - and ends up facing the square in just the right way. She can clearly remember standing almost exactly in this spot, looking in this direction, watching Ruby munch on a chocolate chip muffin, while the woman with the tired eyes and the tiny antlers beamed at her new favourite customer.

The broken moonlight, fading in and out of sight through the clouds, and the dim lamplight of the square make it hard to tell, but the wall against which the woman had previously set up shop seems especially dark. An uneasy sensation ripples through Yang’s spine, and she feels compelled to look down and see what tripped her up.

The corner of what appears to be a split plank - charred on one side - is wedged between the stones at her feet. Her gaze turns upward in alarm, and pulls Ruby rather suddenly toward the unusually dark wall.

The space is unoccupied at first glance, but as they draw closer, they can make out the remains of the wooden frame of the woman’s stall - similarly splintered and charred, with globs of melted plastic and various other burnt objects scattered around or stuck to the wood. It appears to have been mostly cleared away, but a layer of debris and ash remains mixed in with the dirt between the paving stones.

Ruby squeezes Yang’s right hand with both of hers. Yang recognizes through this touch that Ruby can sense what has happened - or at least that something isn't right here - just as Yang can. She can tell her sister is about to vocalize something when Qrow’s voice grates over their shoulders.

“What’s up, huntresses? Investigating a spooky Halloween mystery, or…” his voice trails off as he registers the scene before them. His eye is drawn to a higher spot on the wall, and he scowls disapprovingly. “Come on, kids. We should pay a visit to ol’ Dougie before we go home.” With his hands on their shoulders, he turns them in the direction of the appropriately ominous-looking bell tower of Signal Academy.

Yang manages to trace Qrow’s gaze and sees what he must have seen - a single, crudely-scribbled word glares back at her from just out of the average adult’s reach, smeared out of the ash on the burnt wall:

**_TRAITOR_ **

Confused and dismayed, Yang solemnly follows her uncle and sister to the gates of Signal.

Three steps further, Qrow halts abruptly, and a paranoid look crosses his face. “Actually… you two go ahead. I need to… check on something.”

They look to him, worried and confused by his sudden erratic behaviour.

“Look, don’t… I’ll be right here, just outside the gates. Just don’t tell _him_ I’m here, alright?” he half-whispers, looking slightly annoyed, and... ashamed?

Yang finally shrugs, starting to tire of their evening out anyhow, and proceeds to the large double doors of the foyer’s entryway. Ruby follows closely, still pouting, but gradually lights up as she observes some of the massive pumpkins (some as tall as Yang) surrounding the walkway, many of which have been carved or decorated with incredible detail, and others… rather carelessly, by the look of it.

After a rapid knock on the hard wood and a weary “twickertweet” is shouted at the door, a sliver of warm light leaks out onto them from inside, reflecting off the mostly bald head of the thick-bodied old man who steps out to greet them.

Headmaster Conifer eyes them carefully with an inscrutable expression, then crosses his arms rather suddenly, his brow furrowing. “What do you think you girlss are doing out thiss late? You sshould be in your dormss at thiss hour!” he whistles as sternly as he can through his gap tooth. His fingers drum on the sleeve of his faded green blazer.

Yang is speechless, and it takes her a moment to realize she’s leaning back defensively, her mouth hanging open. Before she can think of what to say, Ruby simply asks, “Dorms?”

“Yess, young lady, do you think I wouldn’t recognisse a pair of huntresssesss when I ssee them?” he demands, but his facade shatters as his chest heaves with airy laughter.

Still stunned, Yang slowly closes her mouth, then smiles appreciatively.

“Thosse are quite the cosstumess, girlss! I’m sso glad you could make it. Pleasse, help yoursselvess…” he creakily reaches down to offer them a basket full of goodies to choose from.

As they thank him and sift through for their favourites, there is a jarringly loud and oddly lengthy shattering sound from inside, and Headmaster Conifer stiffens upright again.

“Ohohoooohhh dear… that’ss probably Persi again… the poor child hass developed a rather… _dessstructive_ ssemblansse. Give your father my besst...” He rushes to close the door behind him, as if eager to contain the burgeoning abilities of this "Persi," whom Yang figures must be a student here.

The sisters share a bewildered glance, but each of them can see the weariness in the other’s eyes, and a silent agreement passes between them: _It’s time to go home_.

They find an anxious Qrow at the gates, though he relaxes as they near the edge of town. Wishing to conserve what little energy she has left, Yang opts not to pursue her curiosity this time.

Seeing Ruby starting to drag her heels, Qrow offers her a ride on his shoulders (on the condition that he keep her kama at his side), and she gratefully accepts.

Once out of sight of the town of Patch, he breaks the lengthy conversational silence, catching Ruby at the brink of sleep as she leans heavily on his shock of graying hair.

“I’m sorry about your whoever it was you were looking for. Faunus, yeah?”

Yang mutters affirmatively, and Qrow sighs loudly.

“Whatever happened there… don’t let it getcha down. I’m sure your friend is okay.”

“Gone!” protests Ruby with a dismayed yawn.

“Well, yeah, unfortunately… you may never see them again. Not around here, anyway. Look… not everyone is as… _compassionate_ towards others… or _certain_ others. Like the faunus. But we’ve all got a lot more in common than some people would like to admit… and those people - human _or_ faunus - can be dangerous... to _everyone_.”

Yang only vaguely remembers the bits and pieces of information her father and uncle had mentioned about the faunus over the years, but she thinks she recalls a news broadcast or something about a group of faunus with white fangs recently turning to more violent acts to protect themselves and their rights. She wonders how they might have become so angry as to become violent, and if someone might have been angry enough with Ruby’s friend to run her out of town. _And why only white fangs?_

Her thoughts grow sloppy in her tired state, and she can see their mailbox ahead, but Qrow apparently isn’t done his own train of thought.

“We all get to choose how we live - whether we’re kind, or… well, not.” Stopping short of the walkway to the house, he soberly continues, looking down at the dirt. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that kindness is not an option. Not everyone gets to live a comfortable life, so it’s important you appreciate what you have… even if it _seems_ like all you have left to choose is _un_ kindness.”

Yang tries to understand, to take in these voluminous words of wisdom, but she feels as if his words are bouncing off her head at this point. Ruby is passed out, face buried awkwardly in his hair, drooling slightly.

“Come on, it’s pretty late. Your dad’s probably getting worried.”

* * *

Qrow is right, of course, but Taiyang foregoes the finger-wagging in favour of getting his girls to bed.

Yang realizes as she finishes brushing her teeth that in the decidedly upsetting finale to their Halloween out on the town, she never actually got anything for Ruby, and she chastises herself, frowning to her toothpaste-moustached self in the mirror.

Taiyang steps out of their bedroom, happening across Yang on her return trip from the bathroom. “Good night, Yang,” he says with a warm smile.

She hesitates to respond, questions nagging in the back of her mind. The silence causes him to raise an inquisitive eyebrow. Her disappointment rushes ahead of her other thoughts. "I forgot to get Ruby a present!" she whisper-shouts, conscious of the open doorway down the hall. Without warning, she's tearing up again, feeling immeasurably foolish.

"Hey, don't cry," her father says consolingly, reaching for the side of her face with his palm, equal parts rough and gentle. "You know... I think you've forgotten something." He cups her cheek tenderly, raising her eyes to meet his.

"What?" she asks, holding in a sob. She really has no idea what he could possibly mean, and is too tired to imagine the possibilities.

"Ruby... she looks up to you, you know. You're kind of... her  _hero_. And I think that's a pretty fair assessment," he explains, breaking into a proud grin.

_Hero?_

Yang thinks back to the night out in the woods, and how she nearly got them  _both_  killed.

_I couldn't protect her... I couldn’t even fight back._

"And today, Ruby's heroic big sister just showed off her very own semblance," Taiyang continues. "I think that's as good a present as you could have given her." The circumstances hadn't been particularly positive, but he wasn't wrong, and Yang couldn't blame him for latching onto the silver lining in their dinnertime drama.

She didn't fully understand what had happened, or why, but the way Qrow and Dad had reacted didn't seem to warrant much concern. Still, she had no idea what this meant for her - semblances were very much the stuff of fairy tales, or Qrow's stories, but not  _her_ life. Not until now.

But something else was bothering her, too, and even in the muck of her exhausted mental state, the questions take shape. She looks down at a fraying edge of the carpet, fidgeting with her hands. “Dad, I-”

“You want to know how this is going to work, right?” he interrupts quietly, very much hitting the nail on the head. From the sisters' bedroom they can hear Qrow softly rasping on about the King of Vale during the Great War - one of Ruby’s favourite stories, though she's undoubtedly already asleep after such an emotional day. Yang nods, avoiding eye contact.

He kneels to meet her at eye level anyways. “Yang, like I said, Ruby thinks the world of you… you’ve done well. With Ruby… and me,” he sighs. “And… well, when Qrow leaves, it’s just gonna be us again. And… as much as it would be easier for me to stay home all the time… I… I can’t. Your uncle… Qrow’s right. I need to go back to Signal. For my sake. For the school’s sake. For _our_ sakes. I need to do what I can to provide for us. Headmaster Conifer has been very understanding but I need to make sure we’re capable of looking after ourselves. With the income from my job… well, that takes care of most of that.”

Yang finally meets his eyes, her suddenly clenched fists trembling slightly - though she feels unusually devoid of anger in the wake of his honesty. She wants to be upset with him, but... she  _can't_.

More seriously, he asks Yang, “Do you think you can help me with the rest?”

This surprises her. _Help?_ She thinks she knows what he means and had half been expecting to have to worry about this, but his sudden upfront request catches her off guard.

“While I’m working, I can’t be here with you and Ruby. Eventually… _one day_ , we can talk about you attending Signal yourselves. We've got... a  _lot_  to talk about, with that."

Yang thinks back to how she came around to her choice in costume, how strangely satisfied she was to see herself combat ready in the mirror, and the way her body reacted to her desperate outburst at dinner.

She is grateful for the momentary silence Taiyang provides for her to let things sink in. 

_Could I be a huntress? A hero?_

She also remembers how she nearly got Ruby and herself killed, and how her uncle emphasized the importance of being able to help _everyone_. If she couldn’t even protect one person...

Taiyang appears reluctant to continue, sighing heavily. "Well, for now, you’ve shown that you are capable of taking care of your sister and you have no idea how proud that makes me. And as much as I hate to have to do this…” he pauses, ensuring he has her full attention. Her lilacs are affixed to his bright blues, though unsure of which individual eye to look at while they’re this close. “I need you to hold down the fort here. You’re my Sunny Little Dragon, and you’re Ruby’s hero of a big sister, and you’re growing up so fast, and I know you can do this; you already have. You’re a big girl. Can I count on you?”

Yang is reeling from the weight of his request. She hadn’t thought too much about the long term while he was being despondent. It was always just about living day by day, though she supposes that she would have kept on doing whatever she could for Ruby anyhow, for as long as was needed. And now, here it is, the idea that she would continue to do so for the next… _several years_. It isn’t disagreeable, and she is committed to her sister’s well-being, but something about the request doesn’t feel so much like a request. While she is wholeheartedly ready to say yes, she can’t help but feel like she doesn’t have much of a choice, and again she  _wants_ to be upset with him, but...

Here he is - Dad - asking her to take on a “big girl” responsibility. Asking her to be Ruby’s hero (more officially, anyhow), and hinting at the possibilities in her own future. It’s bittersweet, but she feels a small amount of pride in simply being asked. And she knows her answer.

“Okay,” she half-whispers, nodding hesitantly. _I couldn’t protect Ruby then..._

“Thank you, Yang,” he says with audible relief. He wraps his arms around her in a careful hug. “I know we can do this.”

She returns the gesture, genuinely pleased with their interaction, although she is distracted as the implications of her agreement begin to work themselves out in her mind.

A distant but bitter voice in her head shout-whispers dissatisfaction and doubt, but the mental sound is drowned out by a budding sensation humming its own uplifting melody, like darkness retreating from candlelight.

_...But maybe I could one day? _

She doesn’t register much of Qrow’s story as she settles into bed, and only vaguely recalls wishing him good night as he leaves the room while Ruby snores contentedly.

Yang feels fatigued - _knows_ she is exhausted - but cannot seem to get comfortable or relent to her body's need to rest. In the scattered moonlight just barely glowing through their window, she can see some of her clothes from her huntress costume peeking out of the laundry basket. Gradually her mind settles on a single notion - not a new one, by any means, but with an odd sense of renewed purpose, and it salves her discomfort for now.

_I_ _could be... no, I_ will _be the hero Ruby needs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> In lieu of a new episode this week, have a new chapter instead! We are now DONE with Halloween/Ruby's birthday and again I'M SORRY that it took this long to wrap up (I rushed the editing process on this one, so... here's hoping I didn't drop the ball anywhere). Tune in next week (probably?) for something more timely... :)
> 
> I should also add a thank you to the gradual trickle of people picking this up from FF or AO3 or my shameless self-promotion on Tumblr. I'm glad you have enjoyed it enough to at least say as much, and I hope you will recommend this or at least review/comment with your thoughts as we continue on this Yangsty retrospective!
> 
> And just to give you a clearer idea of where this is going, the plan is to revisit a lot of Yang's moments of "failure," as hinted at in her present day dreams, and EVENTUALLY catch up to the show - and while that could be a year or more away at my current pace, I do have ideas for where to take this off the canonical rails while we wait for more. In the meantime, if you feel that something crucial is missing, know that it may actually be intentional...
> 
> Until next time, cheers!  
> -kms
> 
> ***UPDATE (09/05/18)***
> 
> As much as I love this fic, I don't see myself coming back to it any time in the foreseeable future. I was so enraptured with Yang's arc in V5 that I couldn't bring myself to write while it was going on, and haven't been able to get in the same headspace since. My apologies to those invested in it; for those of you patient enough to deal with more of my slow writing, I have a newer fic in progress called "Honey" which you may enjoy. Otherwise, my thanks to those of you who have read this far! Happy RWBY-ing.


End file.
